The Forsaken
by Link Worshiper
Summary: In the broken land of Azeroth, two factions war for dominance, and forsworn enemies discover that their world is far more complicated than simply judging who is right and who is wrong. WIP in progress.
1. A Thief in the Dark

**Title: _The Forsaken_  
Author:** Link Worshiper  
**Pairings:** 1=2, 3=4, maybe some others if I feel like it  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Stuff:** Fantasy AU, fluff, sap, language, adventure, squick?, WoW nerdiness  
**Disclaimer:** I own Gundam Wing action figures? Warcraft and its lore belongs to Blizzard Entertainment. Both things are being played with out of fangirl love.

Thanks to danse and Natea for the once over. Despite the fact this is part of Natea's birthday present, I still needed her to fill me in on the Alliance history they don't teach us on Horde, so thanks for that also =P

And another note for you people who probably cruised in here after I kind of wandered off this site: I have a website where all my fics are archived, and the URL is (the old , which no longer exists). In case you forget, it's all been updated on my user profile. I'm posting here to kind of make a sneeze about it, and I've written about 10 or so fics, some of which are kind of long, since I left , so there's lots to read. Maybe I'll post them here one day, since I know no one is reading this note.

*Edited a mistake in this chapter. Sorry for confusion. Treize = Arthas. Oops.

--

Part I  
_A Thief in the Dark_

--

In the darkness of the Silverpine Forest, Heero crouched in the shrubbery that lined the Sepulcher, blending in with the shadows around him. The leather of his jerkin and leggings creased uncomfortably against his skin as he shifted into a more comfortable position in complete silence, one hand ever-lingering upon the sheathed dagger at his hip. He peered through the gloom, through the twisted iron fence that lined the old graveyard: there were only a few undead guards wandering the perimeter, though with their diseased gait, it was hard to tell how watchful they actually were. Still, it didn't pay to be lackadaisical, he thought to himself as his other hand wandered to the pouch clinging to his belt, digging for a flask of poison to slather across his blade. He would make short work of this mission, steal the item and make it back to his guild's encampment down the road in less than an hour.

Finally ready to go, he pulled up his mask over his nose and mouth and retied the hood of his cloak more tightly around his neck before venturing from the safety of the wood and into the eerie graveyard town that was now overrun with Lady Catalonia's undead followers. It was strange to see the Sepulcher like this now, he thought as he crept along the broken iron fence, unseen. When he used to live in Dalaran, back before the betrayal of Treize had chased it into the sky, he used to escort his friend, Quatre, to this little graveyard town for priest training. Now, those bright days seemed like a distant memory.

One of the Forsaken stood watch near the Sepulcher's main gate. Heero dashed by him and slit his throat before he even had a chance to register what was going on. He fell to the ground and silently rolled into an open grave as a small commotion started to brew near the gate, the fallen guard aggravating the attention of the other undead watchmen that were stationed nearby.

He took the chance to dart across the rest of the graveyard, heading towards the old opened crypt that now served an orbital place of study for a small legion of Lady Catalonia's apothecaries. From this dark library, he was to steal the last fragment of a sigil he and his band of fellow rogues had spent the last month traveling across Azeroth in search of. He was not sure what powers the mysterious sigil held, but King Milliardo Wrynn himself had bid Heero to take his guild of bandits on this quest for the sake of the noble Alliance, and so he had accepted. He did not fully endorse the treaty councils Relena Proudmoore had hosted for the Horde Warchief Thrall, and was thus willing to investigate alternate means for achieving peace in Azeroth - at least for the Alliance, at any rate.

Under the cover of night, he slipped towards the fire lit stairs that descended into the crypt library, knowing that the moment he stepped into its warm glow, he would truly have to keep his wits about him. He had a vague idea of what he might find down below, but there was no telling if he really had a chance of surviving this particular mission. But dying for the Alliance was something he had prepared himself for the moment he had begun training as a fighter. Heero peered around the corner and into the tiny library, surveying it with the calculating eyes of the finest thief. There were four undead scholars, each clad in the robes of Lady Catalonia's Royal Apothecary Society, and three more Forsaken guards, who were lounging about the library as if they knew they'd scored themselves the easy post for the night. It didn't take him long to mark the location of the sigil fragment that matched the other four they already possessed; it lay almost carelessly on the table in the middle of the room, serving as a mere paperweight for a stack of yellowed enchanting formulas. A dark smirk formed on Heero's face: this would be like taking candy from a baby.

Without dallying a second longer, Heero leapt from safety and into the library, thoroughly startling all the Forsaken there. The four apothecaries were quick to abandon their studies and back themselves against the far wall, while the three guards clumsily fell into formation between them and Heero. Quick as lightning, Heero leapt across the table at them, his dagger bared and already slashing at the nearest Forsaken warrior, who dropped like a sack of bones almost immediately. In one fell motion, Heero turned on his heel, lifting his dagger and bringing it down upon the next undead guard, making equally short work of him and the soldier who stood after him. Then Heero snatched the sigil fragment off the table and squirreled it away in his hip pouch as he shot a warning glare at the four brooding apothecaries, who were murmuring in Gutterspeak amongst themselves. They seemed to come to some kind of consensus as Heero was slowly backing away. However, whatever course of action they had decided upon never came to fruition, for just as the first apothecary was about to make his move, Heero instinctively hurled his dagger at the undead scholar, where it soon found a new sheath in which to rust. The apothecary crumpled to the ground, no longer even undead, and his colleagues quickly rushed to his aid, while Heero hurried out of the crypt library as fast as his legs could carry him.

_Homefree_, he thought giddily to himself as he dashed for the safety of the woods that surrounded the Sepulcher; _I will be revered in Stormwind by King Milliardo for this show of valour for the Alliance_. But just as he was just about to dive through a hole in the bushes to the dark safety of the underbrush, he felt a chill around his heart, like a pair of claws had dug their way into his soul and was pulling him in the opposite direction. It was only then that he realized that a pair of ghostly, sapphire hands were closed around his chest, holding him fast. Heero's eyes darted about with wild fear as he tried to search out the master of this otherworldly being that had impeded his getaway. It didn't take long for the one matching such a description made himself known.

"Where are you running to with such fervor in this dark wood, rogue?" came a deep baritone that was gouged with the scratchy tones of the undead Forsaken. Heero's eyes widened fearfully as a powerful looking warlock materialized out of the gloom, his yellowed eyes glowing like twin lanterns in the night. His matted brown hair hung in tangles around his rotting face and fell in a long, knotted braid over one shoulder.

"It is none of your affair," Heero retorted snidely, certain that even the most polite of mannerisms wouldn't save him. He was fully aware that the Forsaken had no love for anything that still drew breath, and he shuddered to think what sort of torturous end this warlock had in mind for him. Turning his head away from the warlock, he snorted, "O, have this hellspawned minion of yours do what it will with me already. I am not afraid to die."

A slow smile that revealed a mouth full of decayed teeth spread across the warlock's face as a scratchy cackle fell through his stretched, white lips. It strained the leather stitches that barely held fast the rip extending from the corner of his mouth. "Humans, ever so amusing, even to the end," the warlock mused, lifting a bony hand that was only half covered in flesh to stroke his chin. "It is ironic that you and I would crave the same thing so desperately. What makes you think you have earned the right to the eternal sleep when I have been waiting an age to experience it?"

Heero whipped his head back to shoot a dastardly glare at the warlock for a comment that so belittled his want for a honourable death. In an instant, the warlock seemed to have been taken aback, as if startled. Heero was not slouch enough to miss the fact that despite being surprised, the warlock's ghost minion still held him fast. _He must have a great mana well_, he reasoned bitterly, more concerned with the warlock's power source than what had caused the upset in the first place.

The warlock seemed to be undergoing an attitude adjustment, eyeing Heero up and down as if he were trying to come to a personal decision about what he ought to do next. "You carry no weapons," he said at length, striding towards his captive warily. "What is your business here, human?" He reached out and boldly ripped back Heero's hood, revealing the ragged mop of chocolate hair it had been concealing, which he then ran a skeletal finger through curiously. Then he suddenly grabbed Heero by the chin, his bony digits cutting into Heero's jaw; "Speak true, rogue," the warlock warned, his tone suddenly dangerous once more, "or I shall not hesitate to sacrifice you in the name of the Dark Lady."

Heero frowned, his mind racing at the various options he had and completely unsure what the best course of action would be. He decided that the warlock was going to do what he would with him not matter what he chose, so he shrugged and said, "I was here to steal. I lost my dagger making my escape."

The warlock seemed to consider the comment before he snapped the fingers of his other hand, this one much more resembling of a human hand, though its colour was pale with deathly rot. The sapphire ghost minion that had been holding Heero fast vanished in a twist of blue smoke, carelessly dropping Heero to the ground with its departure. Heero fell to his knees, ripping his facemask from over his nose and mouth as he clutched his chest and he gasped for breath, suddenly aware that the ghost had sapped him of most of his strength.

"I believe you, rogue," said the warlock, who was staring down at Heero with that bemused smirk still adorning his twisted lips. "And because even I feel unease at the notion of killing someone who is unarmed - even if that someone is a filthy Ally - I will reward your honesty with allowing you to continue on your way." Then his apparent good nature fell away, and he added darkly, "But should I catch you sneaking about the Sepulcher again, I warn you now that I will not hesitate to kill you. Understand?"

Heero, still feeling winded, stared up at the warlock with disbelief. Part of him almost wanted to say something disparaging, but he knew that such idiocy would end in certain death, which simply would not do with his goal so near at hand. He swallowed deeply and then gave the warlock a curt nod before abruptly taking to his feet and dashing off into the night. He didn't once look back, not even to see if the warlock was still standing there, watching him go.

--

When Heero came stumbling back into his guild's encampment, looking like Death warmed over, the others were all immediately at his side, certain that some terrible evil had befallen their brash leader. He shrugged them all away and slouched towards the low burning embers of the campfire that still smoldered between their little tents. Sitting, he wordlessly stared at the flames, thinking mostly to himself about the odd encounter he'd just had with that Forsaken warlock and how strange it was to know that a member of the Horde had allowed him his freedom. It made him question what they were doing there for the first time in his entire career serving the Alliance. What if he had just witnessed the kind of thing that Relena Proudmoore saw in the ranks of Thrall and his mighty Horde?

"Well?" came the voice of Otto, another Stormwind rogue in the loyal service of King Milliardo. "Did you find it?"

Heero faltered at the question, the hand that had automatically started to reach for his hip pouch hovering over the leather flap with uncertainty. He tapped the buckle that held the pouch fast, mulling over his recent musings once more. Perhaps assembling the pieces of this Epyon Sigil wasn't such a grand idea after all. Maybe completing this quest would end up hurting the Alliance more than aiding it. Even just the possibility made Heero think about relinquishing the final sigil shard in a completely different light.

"Was it not there?" came the voice of another fellow guildmate, this one a blond rogue by the name of Alex. He had a friend called Mueller who was quick to add, "Did we get faulty information about the sigil's whereabouts?"

It was the bother of all these constant questions that finally caused Heero to give in and relinquish his findings. Stuffing his hand into his pouch, he pulled out the granite hunk that glowed with the light of all the runes engraved around its edge. "It was there," he said simply, holding it out for whoever would take it from him. "Do what you will with it. My work is finished."

Alex impatiently snatched the shard from Heero's uncaring hand and thrust it towards Mueller, who was the lone mage that had come along with them on this journey. "Seal the magic," Alex commanded as if he had the authority to order other guild members around. "We will present King Milliardo with a viable tool he can use to crush the Horde once and for all."

Sadly, Mueller followed Alex's orders with the pathetic air of someone who allowed a so-called friend to push him around. He took the sigil shard from Heero and then announced to the rest of the guild, "I am going to perform the bonding ritual inside one of the tents. I beg you to not interrupt me, or the entire thing may as well be for naught."

Heero let out an annoyed grunt, unable to keep his thoughts straight with all this discussion around him. He stood up and told them he was going to go scout the coastline of Lordamere Lake, though the truth of it was that he wanted to find a quiet place to brood without the prattle of his somewhat idiotic guildmates there to distract him. He had a lot weighing his mind, and the thought that most of it was making him question everything he had ever believed in was a rather alarming shock he wanted to deal with as soon as possible. He was gone before anyone even had the chance to protest.

--

It wasn't long before Heero was able to find a nice, isolated knoll a good enough distance from the encampment that he would be left alone, but not so far that he would be unable to aid his allies should something unfortunate befall them. Again, he dug through his pouch, this time in search of a small trinket his friend, Quatre, had given him before they'd parted ways so many years ago. It was a small, silver charm in the shape of an owl that Quatre had enchanted with his magic to serve as a sort of communication tool. Simply rubbing the charm would immediately connect him to the similarly enchanted trinket that Quatre carried with him at all times, even if they were oceans away from each other. Knowing that Quatre was the wisest person he would ever have the fortune of considering a friend, Heero rolled the owl charm between his palms, praying that Quatre's counsel would at least give him some peace of mind.

Within moments, a warbled, glowing ring of light that depicted Quatre's countenance all the way from Theramore hung in the air before Heero, even just the sight of the familiar face of his friend was enough to make him feel better. "What's wrong, Heero?" Quatre voice echoed dreamily through the communication portal. "You look deeply troubled."

"I'm fine," Heero answered, though it was clear by his posture and his tone that it was a thinly veiled lie. Quatre sent him a stern glare through the portal, and Heero relented. "My life was spared by a Forsaken tonight, Quatre," he confessed, desperate to get it off his chest. "But I don't know what that even means."

Quatre said nothing at first, instead taking a ponderous moment to look thoughtful. "I will not ask what new foolishness you are undertaking for Stormwind now, but I will say that I have heard tales that even the Forsaken can be prone to mercy," he mused aloud, tapping his lower lip. "Perhaps you were fortunate enough to have been caught by one who has been shown mercy by one of our own in the past."

"That... could be," Heero said slowly as he tried to decide whether or not that was plausible or not. "But they would kill and feast upon even one of their own Horde allies out of mere spite that they still have blood in their veins. They are a proud and selective brethren."

"They are no more proud than you, Heero Yuy," Quatre said glibly with a roll of his eyes, privately thinking that even Heero's elite training had not managed to quell the hot-blooded rashness that had fuelled him in his youth. There was a pause, and then Quatre asked, "Are you unnerved by the thought that your forsworn enemy is just as capable of pity as you?"

As usual, Quatre had been quick to see through to the heart of the matter. Heero supposed that was part of why he'd wanted to talk to Quatre at all, but at the same time, it was disheartening to think that he was so transparent. He said nothing and stared down at his boots.

"The Horde is not without honour, you know," Quatre said at length. "Even the dreaded Forsaken, freed from the wrath of the Lich King and yet still damned, are not without their reasons for their dark ways. We fear what we do not understand, and I think it is that lack of understanding that keeps the Alliance fearful of the Horde. The old wars are over, now, Heero; we live in a different world, and I personally think it's high time that the people of Azeroth begin to change with it."

"Thanks for the lecture, Quatre," Heero muttered moodily, "but I didn't call on you to hear you spout the trivialities you hear in Relena Proudmoore's court."

Quatre let out a very audible sigh, running his hands through his short, blond hair. Quatre knew Heero had never approved of his decision to use his priestly training to aid Relena Proudmoore's politics from her seat in Theramore, but his disdain for that was no less apparent than Quatre's reservations towards King Milliardo Wrynn's far brasher methods. It was a heated debate that they tried to avoid ever since they had nearly ended their friendship over it in their youth. At the time, they were each trying to settle upon where they each would best be of service to the Alliance, but their differences in worldviews had left the two friends at a crossroads. Still, it was impossible to keep a snide comment or two from loosening itself when it came to discussions such as these, and sometimes Quatre thought it a miracle of friendship that they hadn't dueled each other over such differences.

Quatre was jarred from his thoughts when Heero suddenly jumped to his feet as if there was something amiss near where he sat. "What now?" he wondered, confused by Heero's sudden alertness.

"Shh, I-" Heero hissed, his eyes darting around suspiciously. He thought he had heard some kind of commotion from the woods, but he hadn't been listening closely enough to pinpoint exactly where it had come from. He piqued his ears in hopes of hearing something else, and it didn't take long before he heard the sound of shouting a billowing fire coming from the direction of the guild encampment. Fearing the worst, he brusquely closed the communication portal with Quatre, and, stuffing the owl charm back into his pack, took off immediately for the place he had left his comrades.

At first, Heero had suspected that the undead warlock had sold him out and had brought a Forsaken hunting party into Silverpine to smoke them out. However, when he arrived at the camp, it was apparent such a thing was hardly the case. Instead of undead standing amidst the flames that had engulfed their camp, there was a large, shadowy form that seemed to be neither beast nor spirit. It had great hands with heavy claws that hung nearly to the ground and burning red eyes that glowed with the hatred. Heero hung back, watching the creature in fearful awe from the nearby shadows. It was obvious that the binding of the sigil had gone awry and that it was unlikely any of them had survived the calamity. Heero couldn't say for sure if it was the result of a miscast spell, since magic was an alien tongue to him, but if there was anything he _could_ be certain of was that the sigil had unleashed something truly horrible into the world.

And then, almost as if the demon had been wrought from some kind of unholy dream, it suddenly vanished, though where it had gone, Heero couldn't be sure. Amid the fire, which seemed to be dying without the shadow's presence there to fuel it, he could see the sigil still glowing beneath the burning remnants of one of the tents. Its light somehow radiated with the kind of temptation that had ruined the lives of lesser men. Heero frowned at it, hating its very existence for betraying the ones that had made it whole once more. Yet, he also knew it wouldn't do to leave it there for someone more irresponsible to come across by accident. Carefully picking his way through the patches of fire that still burned strong, he snatched the sigil up like a hot coal, tossing it from hand to hand to cool it down as he quickly made haste to get away before the fire garnered anyone else's attention.

He wandered aimlessly through the forest, at first careless of where he ended up as he tried to decide what he should do next. Going back to Stormwind didn't seem like a viable option at the moment, not only because of the distance, but also because he wasn't sure he knew how he would explain to King Milliardo what had just transpired. Such power would surely please His Majesty, Heero was certain, but considering the sort of reckless campaigns Milliardo Wrynn was famous for, Heero wasn't sure he was quite willing to simply hand over such a potentially destructive item. Heero then thought maybe it would be most prudent to figure out exactly what it was he and his comrades had found; he might feel more comfortable if he could at least be sure that the power of the sigil's creature wouldn't backfire and harm the Alliance. Somehow, though, he was already sure he knew what the answer to that speculation would prove to be. Perhaps the Horde had reasons for dashing it to pieces in the first place after all.

Unfortunately, as noted before, Heero was at a complete loss when it came to magic and spells, for it was not something that a rogue really had any use for. Quatre probably wouldn't be of much service without being able to physically examine the sigil, Heero reasoned, though he supposed another council with the clever priest might not be a bad route to take either. He came to a halt and leaned against a nearby tree, clutching his forehead in deep thought. He hated decisions that needed extreme mulling over; the lack of action was enough to drive him insane.

There was a shout from somewhere off in the distance, and Heero looked up at the sound, figuring that someone had discovered the remnants of the flaming encampment. Perhaps they were Forsaken, he thought, clutching the sigil tightly in one fist. Perhaps that warlock was amongst them....


	2. Strange Bargains

**Title: **_**The Forsaken**_**  
Author:** Link Worshiper  
**Pairings:** 1=2, 3=4, maybe some others if I feel like it  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Stuff:** Fantasy AU, fluff, sap, language, adventure, squick?, WoW nerdiness  
**Disclaimer:** I own Gundam Wing action figures? Warcraft and its lore belongs to Blizzard Entertainment. Both things are being played with out of fangirl love.

Thanks to danse and Natea for the once over. Despite the fact this is part of Natea's birthday present, I still needed her to fill me in on the Alliance history they don't teach us on Horde, so thanks for that also =P

++++

Part II  
_Strange Bargains_

++++

Elsewhere in the forest, a lone blood elf hunter by the name of Trowa Sunbender was creeping between the trees, a bow slung over one shoulder and a quiver at his hip. His traveling companion, a huge lion he called Heavypaw, padded silently alongside him. They were patrolling the area half out of duty, half in search of dinner, though so far, both things had proven fruitless. There had been a report in Undercity that there were Allies lurking in Silverpine, and as one of the best trackers found in Eversong, Trowa had been the one dispatched to see to the search and disposal of the pests. However, the scent of some strong magics lingering in the air was teasing at his senses and heavily distracting him from his mission. Inevitably, he found himself more drawn to the source of the magic than his task, though the deviation was something that might almost be expected of the magic-starved Sin'dorei.

Before long, Trowa and Heavypaw came across a ruined encampment in a small clearing of the wood. The fire that had decimated it still burned low, but when Trowa stooped to inspect it more closely, it didn't take him long to discern that the source of the destruction was more than just a simple campfire gone awry. With his keen senses and his taste for the arcane, it was easy for him to tell that what had happened here had been caused by some sort of dark magic. It stank of the kind of malice that he associated with the Burning Legion, he noted with a wrinkle of his nose. He wondered if that meant that it hadn't been Alliance intruders in Silverpine, but rather a band of Burning Legion loyalists wandering about instead. Idly running his hand through Heavypaw's mane, Trowa couldn't decide which one left a worse taste in his mouth.

Still, Trowa knew that the source of this unnatural fire was no longer in that encampment, and on the pretense of following through on his mission, he continued into the wood in hopes of finding the source. In actuality, he was hoping he'd be able to drink of whatever power he would find at the end of his hunt; it had been a long time since he had last fed on a magic that truly quelled his constant lust for it. The smell of the fire's magic had left a trail through the trees, which Trowa stalked with the ferocity of a starved man left to die in the desert.

When the magic's presence became its strongest, Trowa had to support himself on a nearby tree as a dizzy spell overtook him. From where he stood, he scouted the area, and it didn't take him long to catch sight of the one that was probably carrying whatever was driving his magic lust wild. He was relieved to note that it was a human Ally, who not only appeared to be unarmed, but also alone. He was thankful for that, since he wasn't sure he was in quite the condition to fend off an entire raiding party. With a nod at Heavypaw, he armed his bow and took aim at the unwary Ally, who was sitting atop a large boulder with his back towards the place where Trowa hid. As Heavypaw stalked towards the Ally, Trowa took aim and let his first arrow fly.

Despite the fall of red hair that swept over one of his eyes, his aim was true, and the unsuspected Ally roared in shock when he suddenly found Trowa's arrow buried in the back of his shoulder. At that moment, Heavypaw leapt from the underbrush and tackled the Ally from behind, pinning him to the ground as Trowa came stumbling out of hiding. He fell into a crouch next to the Ally, gripping the arrow and staring down at his captive with desperate craving. "Where is it," he gasped, now certain that the magical item was somewhere on this Ally's person. "Give it to me, and I might let you live."

"Give what?" the Ally growled angrily, not at all phased by the fact that he had a deep wound in his back and giant lion pinning him to the ground. His cheek was pressed against the dirt, but his eyes were still blue and sharp with ferocity.

"The magic - you have it, I know it!" Trowa snapped with equal impatience. He pushed down on the arrow in hopes of causing the human more pain. "An idiot human has no need for such things. Deliver it to me immediately!"

The Ally grit his teeth at the pain caused by the arrow, but he didn't relent as easily as Trowa had hoped. "I'm not so stupid that I don't know about the sick addiction you blood elves have," he spat uncordially. "I have heard that most of your kind falls to insanity in your quest for such fel magics."

The comment greatly angered Trowa, and it made him want to rip the arrow out of the Ally's back and drive it right between his eyes. "Don't speak of things you know naught of. You could never understand what kinds of trials my people face on a daily basis," Trowa said flatly, barely resisting the urge to follow through on that whim. Forcing himself to calm down, he said, "If you won't give whatever it is you carry of your own will, then I will take you prisoner and have my allies beat it out of you."

Already rummaging through his pack for a thong with which to bind his captive's hands, Trowa was imagining that the magic item would be his reward for bringing an Ally hostage to Undercity alive. Once he had tied the Ally's hands viciously behind his back, he nodded to Heavypaw, who backed off hesitantly. Trowa forced the Ally to his feet, keeping control over his prisoner with a nocked arrow at his back. "Walk," he commanded, pressing the tip of the arrow into the Ally's back and causing him to stumble forward a few steps. With a grunt, the captive grudgingly complied.

Being all the way back in Tirisfall, Undercity was a bit too far to guide a prisoner like this, Trowa decided, so he elected to bring the Ally to the Sepulcher, which was the nearest friendly town to where they were. Besides, he had a comrade there who would know what to do about this better than anyone, he reasoned as they continued on their way through the haunted trees. Trowa grinned at the thought of introducing this Ally to him, for his ruthlessness was famous amongst both the Forsaken and the Sin'dorei, and Trowa was honoured to consider him a close friend.

When the odd trio finally reached the edge of the Sepulcher, a few of the undead guards who had managed to survive the earlier onslaught on the town came running to Trowa to help secure the Ally captive. Most of them seemed to recognize him as the one who had just killed a good number of their friends, and they were shameless in their uncouth taunting now that the killer had been put in his proper place. Trowa was oblivious to all of this undercurrent, however, and he was quick to call for the company of the friend he had come to see. "Summon Duo Blackscythe," he demanded of the nearest Forsaken.

Moments later, the group had brought the Ally to the village inn and lashed him hand and foot to one of the chairs inside the derelict building. A few of the Forsaken guards remained to help Trowa keep an eye on the captive while they waited for Duo Blackscythe to receive the message that he had come to call. But when an all-to-familiar warlock stepped through the front door of the inn, Trowa was hardly able to greet his friend properly, for the Ally let out an unexpected hiss of anger at the mere sight of him. Trowa glared over his shoulder at the prisoner, just short of telling him to be quiet, but Duo's reaction to the sight of the Ally was probably just as strange. "You!" the warlock cried, striding right by Trowa and up to the captive with blazing eyes. "I thought I told you I would kill you if I found you in these parts again!"

"Take your chance, then," the Ally spat with a familiarity that confused Trowa greatly. He hung back with Heavypaw and observed, electing potential entertainment over his need for that magical item, which he was certain would come to him as an eventuality.

"Trowa, where did you _find_ this filth?" Duo asked of the blood elf, his brow crinkled unhappily. He turned back to glare at the Ally prisoner, grumbling mostly to himself, "This is what I deserve for showing such a wretch forgiveness. Let it be a lesson."

"_You_ showed forgiveness? To an Ally?" Trowa commented incredulously. He was now sitting on the nearby dining table, idly feeding Heavypaw scraps out of his supply pack. "When, and why hasn't the world stopped?"

"Shut up," Duo snapped, crossing his skeletal arm over his fleshy one as he continued to glare down at the Ally, who continued to glare right back. There was a pause, and then Duo said, "You know, getting caught twice in one day, you're probably the worst rogue in all of Azeroth."

At this, Trowa burst into laughter, careless of what the other two thought. Blood elves tended to do as they pleased, and most people didn't intervene with them - much. Scratching behind one of Heavypaw's ears, he turned towards Duo and the Ally and finally said, "He was asking for it. He has something that stinks of high magic, and I want it."

"Does he now?" Duo mused, still eying the Ally incredulously, though it was clear he was now even more intrigued than before. "I wonder why I didn't notice it the first time?" There was a certain tone in his voice that suggested that he already knew the answer to such a rhetorical question, but no one raised any comments about it. Instead, he flicked both his hands, shuffling his huge, indigo sleeves back down over his palms and asked, "You, human: where do you hail from? Stormwind? Theramore? Southshore, perhaps?"

"Why should I tell you?" the Ally sneered, obviously looking to rile his enemies up.

Duo's skeletal hand suddenly snapped forward, clawing a handful of the Ally's jerkin and impatiently yanking him as close to his face as the bonds would allow: "Because if you _don't_, I won't hesitate to let the elf tear you limb from limb in search of whatever _trinket_ you happened to slither across," he threatened icily, his empty, yellowed eyes flashing dangerously. "Don't cross me again, human. You are under _my_ control now."

The Ally frowned, obviously calculating that this wasn't the fight to pursue. Grudgingly, he muttered, "Dalar - ...Stormwind."

Duo arched his eyebrows at the slipup, but chose not to press the matter. Instead, he asked another question, his tone rather idle: "And your name?"

"Heero Yuy," the Ally mumbled almost too grumpily to be heard properly.

Stroking his chin, Duo looked rather thoughtful for a moment. Heero shuffled in his bonds and Trowa continued to wait impatiently, his finger drumming incessantly against the table he was perched upon. Each beat of his fingertips against the wood counted another second of the otherwise barren silence until, at long last, Duo spoke. "Very well, then. Heero Yuy, is it? Will you now confess what you have been lurking in Silverpine for?" he asked, eying him carefully before his tone took another sharp change in tone. "Because I'm no fool: there is no way a haphazard rogue that has been aimlessly wandering would be able to singlehandedly sweep through one of our rests. You are not without great skill and likely in the close service of that worm, Milliardo. Am I correct?" His voice was drenched in honeyed sarcasm at the mention of Stormwind's ruler.

Heero snorted tritely: "You seem to know the answer well enough without consulting _me_, warlock."

Duo smirked at his captive as he pulled one of the extra chairs away from the table and sat down upon it, leaning heavily on the elbow he bent over his knee. "And nary, I am aware of it. You are far too suspicious," the warlock grinned, knowing he had Heero pinned. "What is it you would ask of me?"

At this, Heero found a little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, impressed that he had been so easily found out. Allowing the blood elf to capture him had been the surest way he would be brought to a place that might find him audience with this Duo Blackscythe. Between his conversation with Quatre earlier and all the events that had transpired that day, Heero had been fairly certain he would be able to convince Duo in particular to teach him about the sigil. So, to answer Duo's question, he replied tartly, "I am in need of someone well versed in the arcane. I am willing to overlook faction loyalties in order to barter such services from you, warlock."

At this, Duo's face lit up in the way a person's might when introduced to a new and amusing game. "Intriguing," said Duo, stroking his chin again before brushing his thumb over his lips and chomping down on the tip of it. "Tell me what you require, and I shall name you your price."

Heero's heart was thumping in anticipation, extremely overwhelmed by his good luck. But then he glanced over at the table, where he found Trowa staring back at him like he was the wrapping covering a delicious treat. Jerking his head in Trowa's direction, he quickly said, "Make the blood elf scarce, and we will discuss it. My business is not with him."

Duo frowned but was still complacent of Heero's terms. He turned to Trowa and gave him a dismissive nod of his head, which sent the blood elf moodily towards the door, his pet lion not far behind. "I assume whatever it is you need me for has to do with the thing Trowa smelt on you," Duo surmised as the door closed behind the hunter.

Privately, Heero was impressed by how quickly Duo seemed to latch onto ideas that might have otherwise drifted beyond the average person's head. However, he confessed none of that to Duo and instead cut straight to business. "Yes," he said, "and I would it that you will honour whatever deal we strike up by keeping him far away from it."

"I will make no promises on his behalf," Duo said with frank sincerity, though the way his wide, yellowed eyes were flickering suggested that he was eager to hear what Heero had to say about his magical dilemma. "Now speak."

So Heero took a deep breath and began to tell Duo about the quest his king had sent him on, careful to edit out the details that might compromise any of Stormwind's future tactics against the Horde. "I will assume you are aware of a runed sigil that was divided amongst the five tribes of the Horde," Heero began, all the while being sure to meet Duo's eyes straight on so that it was clear he did not fear him.

By the way Duo's eyes narrowed at the mention of such a thing, it was clear that he was all too familiar with the item that Heero spoke of. With his bony fist clenched and a frown creasing his rotten face, Duo interjected tightly, "The Warchief Thrall saw that the Epyon Sigil was destroyed so that its demonic magics would not rend Azeroth asunder. It would figure that Milliardo Wrynn would orchestrate a scheme to bind a power he knows nothing of." There was a pause as Duo took a moment to think, idly pulling at his tattered braid of hair as he did so. "Tell me, did you see the demon?"

"It killed my comrades and then vanished into the night," said Heero, unsure of what this could mean.

Duo let out a raspy sigh of relief, almost seeming to wilt in his chair at the thought of what other things Heero might have said concerning it. "Then it has not yet found a master, thankfully," he said, pulling at his braid with both hands now. "This means we still have time to destroy the sigil and banish it."

"What am I to do?" asked Heero.

"In a moment," Duo said, suddenly switching gears and waving his hand dismissively at Heero. "Now that I know what your problem is, I will demand my required price of you. If you are able to deliver me the item I seek, then I will tell you how to undo the disaster you have wrought." He added with a note of what might have been teasing playfulness, "And perhaps, if you are fortunate, I will help you."

Heero simply stared back, waiting for Duo to tell him what he wanted. At this point, he was willing to do just about anything to remedy this situation, for if what Duo said was true, then many more people than just his tiny guild would potentially die at the hands of the sigil's demon.

"It is fitting you hail from Stormwind," Duo went on at length. "I am told that deep within Stormwind Keep, there is a vial of a certain elixir that can remedy even the curse of death. I want that elixir, Heero Yuy. I want to be freed of this decayed flesh so that I might live amongst men once more."

"I will bring it to you," said Heero stoutly, even though he had no idea if such a thing truly existed within Stormwind's vaults. "Give me but a fortnight and I will return to you with the elixir."

At this, Duo let out a throaty laugh that wheezed in his throat. "You must think I'm completely stupid to let you travel all the way to Elwynn by yourself," he said, leaning forward in his chair so he could leer deridingly at Heero. "I do not care what you say about honour: I still would never trust an Ally to come back, and I most certainly do not trust _you_."

"I cannot say I trust you either," Heero rejoined with equal acidity. "But I still need you for your knowledge of this demon, so I will steal it for you - for the good of Azeroth, I will."

Duo rolled his eyes. "Your nobility makes me retch, human," he bemoaned. He stood up and lurched towards the window, peering through the cracked pane as if he were worried someone might have been watching them and then hastily drew the tattered curtain over it. Turning around to face Heero once more, he said in a low whisper, "But we can leave immediately, if you so wish. I can move you easily through Horde territory if only you pretend to be under my control."

Heero straightened up as best as he could while lashed to the chair, a look of pride riddling his expression. "I will do no such thing," he spat contemptuously with clear offense.

Duo was upon Heero so quickly, it was as if he had used some kind of magic to transport himself from one end of the room to the other. Slamming his hands down on the arms of the chair, Duo shoved his face up close to Heero's, growling, "Then we shall leave when you are killed and made Forsaken yourself."

Heero stared back at Duo belligerently, locking his gaze with the empty eye sockets that glowed with the magics that kept Duo's soul bound to his animated corpse. He had never been afraid of the undead, but there was something truly intimidating about Duo's presence - a mischievous unpredictability that put Heero on edge.

Just then, as the intensity of their stare down was starting to climax and Heero was wavering on giving in to Duo's demand, a strange look crossed Duo's face, almost like he might gag. He pulled back and lifted a hand to the side of his face, just beneath the fleshy hole in his cheek, from which a cockroach crawled out and skittered across his bony knuckles. Heero watched, horrified, as Duo carried the roach up to eyelevel and teased its antennae with the fingers of his other hand. "That is revolting," he grimaced as Duo continued to coo affectionately at the insect.

Duo glanced back at Heero with an arched eyebrow. As if he were insulted, he said, "You mean you don't want to pet my cock-?"

"Certainly not!" Heero interjected, definitely insulted now.

"...roach?" Duo finished, holding his hand out towards Heero as the insect ran in circles atop his palm. There was a definite smirk on his face, though, and it was in that expression that distinguished Duo as someone that Heero would have to tread carefully around. The dangerous smirk was gone almost instantaneously, however, quickly replaced with a frown of feigned upset: "You've insulted poor Asahi," he said, pushing the roach closer to Heero's face, clearly reveling in the way Heero was straining to stay as far away from the cockroach as his bonds would allow. "That simply will not do."

"You are intentionally inflicting this torture upon me," Heero accused with a glare that was blue and sharp.

"And you are being intentionally confrontational," Duo said casually as he allowed Asahi the roach a bridge from his hand to his shoulder. "I do not have to help you, you realize."

Cornered in more ways than one, Heero fell silent and hung his head, glowering angrily at the worn floorboards beneath his boots. More than anything, he hated the thought of having to sacrifice his pride, but he knew that if he was going to court this warlock's help, he would have to compromise himself, even if it meant having to become the his plaything. He growled under his breath, ruing the very thought of it, and at long last, looked up and said, "Very well; I will see to your terms. But I will warn you not to abuse such an arrangement, or I will be quick to forget our treaty."

Duo merely shrugged at the threat and replied, "It is you who suffers then, not me." With a click of his flesh-fattened fingers, the thongs that had kept Heero lashed to the chair fell to the floor. "Well, then, we'll be on our way to Undercity to prepare for this task of ours," he said, turning his back on Heero, already striding towards the door. "Keep your head down, your mouth shut, and follow me."

Hesitantly, Heero trod after the warlock, through the inn and back outside, where Trowa was loitering against an old mailbox. His posture suggested that he was indifferent to their presence, but that was hardly enough to fool either Heero or Duo. Heero took extra care to make his face look as blank as possible, figuring that if he could trick Trowa into thinking he was under Duo's control, then it would be suitable for slipping by other members of the Horde. He half listened as Duo briefly explained what was happening, though he did notice that the details regarding their deal were conveniently edited out of the version Duo told the blood elf. It was then that Heero finally paused to think if Duo had any ulterior motives of his own: the Forsaken warlock seemed to have agreed to this little romp almost too easily.

Meanwhile, Trowa seemed a little riled for no reason. It seemed that was just the sort of individual he was. "If he's your mind slave, then why haven't you ordered him to give me that magical thing yet?" Trowa demanded to know, obviously focused on only one thing.

"Because it's bound to him," Duo wrote off easily, though the answer wasn't entirely a lie. "However, part of the reason I am escorting him to Stormwind so he can infiltrate and steal me something that will separate it from him." His explanations continued to remain completely true while still telling Trowa absolutely nothing about the real nature of things.

"Is that what business he had with you?" Trowa asked, still not entirely convinced.

Duo shrugged, idly offering his pet roach a finger to climb onto. "He said he wanted to be rid of the magic's curse," Duo said as Asahi scuttled down the length of his finger and up his forearm. "He never specified how I should go about it."

Trowa smirked, clearly approving of this. "Enjoy hell," he said in a way that was meant to be complimentary.

"I already am," Duo rejoined with similar amusement. Again, he lifted a hand and snapped his fingers, though this time, he summoned no magic to his side, but instead, only Heero. "Come on, then, slave," he said in a way that clearly denoted how much he was enjoying this ruse; "We have much to attend to before our journey."

They had barely gotten to the edge of town, Duo leading the way and Heero following closely behind, when they realized that Trowa and Heavypaw were still attached to their heels. Duo held up a hand to indicate that they were stopping and turned around, crossing his arms as he looked Trowa up and down with trepidation. "Do you have nothing better to do for Silvermoon City than to follow us?"

Trowa's mail jerkin rattled as he reslung his bow over his other shoulder and scoffed, "You are my friend, and I know you well, Duo Blackscythe. Do you think I'm stupid enough to allow you to take that magic all the way to Elwynn without me? You would have it for yourself in an instant if I wasn't there to supervise!" He tucked a loose strand of red hair back into place and shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he added, "You made me a promise, and I will see it through."

At this, Duo simply laughed uproariously in Trowa's face, an unsettling cackle. "Then don't fall behind, elf," Duo said, turning on his heel and beckoning for Heero to follow him once more. "I'm not backtracking only to pick up your corpse."

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TBC!!


	3. City Underfoot

**Title: **_**The Forsaken**_**  
Author:** Link Worshiper  
**Pairings:** 1=2, 3=4, maybe some others if I feel like it  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Stuff:** Fantasy AU, fluff, sap, language, adventure, squick?, WoW nerdiness  
**Disclaimer:** I own Gundam Wing action figures? Warcraft and its lore belongs to Blizzard Entertainment. Both things are being played with out of fangirl love.

Thanks to danse and Natea for the once over. Despite the fact this is part of Natea's birthday present, I still needed her to fill me in on the Alliance history they don't teach us on Horde, so thanks for that also =P

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Part III  
_City Underfoot_

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Though he was being escorted by two of his enemies, Heero still couldn't get over how surreal it was to walk through Horde territory so freely. Since he was so used to creeping about wherever he went, striding down the open pathway was almost uncomfortable, even with the makeshift protection he had with him, and at almost every turn, he couldn't help but expect that something would leap out from the trees at him. Harder still was trying to curb that unease into a single, empty expression for the sake of keeping Trowa under the impression that he was Duo's mind slave. The very thought of such degradation was driving him mad.

Despite leaving the Sepulcher when the sky was still barely hinting at sunrise, it still took them a good portion of the day to travel north to Tirisfall. These haunted glades were a place Heero could definitely say he had never truly ventured himself, so it was almost forgivable that he could barely stifle a gasp when the ghostly spires of the Lordaeron ruins began to loom in the distance. The once proud walls of the decimated city, now crumbling and overgrown with weed and ivy, served as yet another monument to the corruption of Treize, who had once been the prince of this great kingdom. A chill ran down Heero's spine at the realization that he would soon be standing in the very place that had birthed so many of Azeroth's troubles.

"Are you sure this is really so wise? What if he remembers the way in and runs it back to his Alliance cronies?" Trowa commented from behind Heero as they began to draw nearer to Lordaeron. The crumbling pathway beneath their feet began to give way to stronger cobblestones, flanked on either side by gloomy banners that were emblazoned with the insignia of the Forsaken.

"He would be dead before he ever had the chance," Duo said, giving the side of Heero's face a rather sharp glare as they approached the outer curtain's rusted portcullis.

Truthfully, as they passed through the gatehouse, Heero couldn't say that the notion of using this guise as a chance to spy hadn't crossed his mind. It was common knowledge that the Forsaken had claimed the forgotten dungeons and crypts of Lordaeron as their capitol city, but the entrance was hidden somewhere amid the ruins and was a secret the Horde would carry to the grave. Besides, Heero reasoned further as they crossed the decrepit promenade, if he kept Lordaeron's secrets, perhaps Duo would, in turn, remain silent about the things he was sure to learn about Stormwind when they reached it.

The ruins were eerily quiet, though Heero couldn't shake the feeling that they were not alone. At the center of the bailey stood the remains of what was once a beautiful fountain, surrounded by uneven cobblestones and broken lumber. A series of makeshift bridges that were constructed of heavy planks spanned across places where the ground had caved in, the largest of which led right up to the castle keep. Still certain that they were being followed, Heero began to trail behind the others, who strode confidently towards the keep with the familiarity of ones who had walked the same route hundreds of times.

Daring to break his cover for a moment, Heero glanced back over his shoulder, sucking in a breath when he caught sight of a single ghost lingering on the edge of the fountain. It looked up at Heero and started at him with empty, sad eyes before fading away. Heero quickly whipped his head forward again, determined to forget what he'd just seen. Instead, he was gripped with an immobilizing fear when he realized that eight more ghostly shades had now materialized in front of him. He couldn't tell if they were yearning for him as their pale hands reached for him, or if they were trying to strike at him with malice. Still, he couldn't allow himself to fall too far behind, so he grit his teeth, closed his eyes and pressed onwards after Duo and Trowa.

He hurried down the abandoned passageways, not entirely sure if he was going the right way. The ghosts continued to drift after him until he reached a long, open-aired corridor that was lined with mossy statues and littered with dead flower petals. He stopped halfway down the hall to glance back once more, almost more uncomfortable with the fact that the ghosts had stopped following him. But the notion was soon forgotten, for he soon found himself entranced by the glow emanating from beyond the doorway at the end of the hallway. As he approached, he imagined he heard the faraway tones of the castle bells rejoicing in the towers.

It was as if an otherworldly force was beckoning Heero there, and upon entering, he realized that he had come across the place where Treize, possessed by the Lich King, had murdered his own father and betrayed his kingdom. The abandoned throne still stood at the back of the circular chamber, and it chilled Heero's very soul to note that the blood of the king still stained its cushions. Despite the mildewed curtains that hung around the walls of the drab chamber, the Alliance crest fixed into the floor stones still seemed to radiate with its own light. Heero dropped his head out of respect, deciding it appropriate to pay some kind of homage to the former King Terenas Kushrenada.

_"My son...."_

A whisper echoed through the room, jolting Heero from his solemnity. He glanced around the room fearfully, determined that his imagination was simply playing tricks on him.

_"My son, what is this you are doing?"_

He could still hear the aged words reverberating throughout the chamber. It was as if the spirit of Terenas had been chained to the very floor of the room, a realization that caused Heero to hastily back away from the glowing Alliance insignia beneath his feet. Surely these halls were a ghostly tomb, but Heero was suddenly fearful that he might be drawn in by some kind of corrupt power if he lingered much longer. He had never been one for stories, but he feared the memory of Treize and what he had become.

_"I am... succeeding you... father...."_

Unable to take much more of this haunting, Heero let out an uproarious scream that sent Duo and Trowa hurrying back from the hidden passages that laid beyond the throne room. They seemed to stumble out of nowhere, emerging from a hidden doorway tucked away behind the throne. "What in the name of the Sunwell is _this_?" Trowa groused as they approached Heero, who was frozen in one spot with shaking hands and glazed eyes. He turned to Duo and added icily, "I told you this was a bad idea."

"Shut _up_!" Duo snapped, not even bothering to turn around and grace Trowa with a look. He circled behind Heero and laid a hand on each of his shoulders in an effort to ground him back into tangible reality. "They cannot hurt you," Duo murmured into Heero's ear as his mismatched hands slid down the length of Heero's arms. "Nothing here will hurt you."

The sound of Duo's voice, raspy as it was, certainly did to calm Heero down. He alleviated himself with a series of even breaths, thankful that the voices of Treize and Terenas had faded away. Schooling his features once more, he hoped that he hadn't compromised his arrangement with Duo before it had even really begun.

"Stupid humans, always so terrified of that which they don't understand," Trowa muttered, turning on his heel to walk back the way they'd come. He hardly shared the same love of games that Duo did, finding the prospect of toying with a prisoner like Heero exceedingly dull. He would have much preferred a more direct course of action, and sometimes wondered why he put up with it.

Duo was following not far behind, propelling Heero forward with a tug of his wrist. "Maybe he is terrified of what he already knows too well," Duo commented glibly as he pulled Heero along, dragging him through a concealed archway and into a sloping passageway. "Treize was one of his own: perhaps he fears a weakness he understands all too well."

Heero had to bite the insides of his cheeks to remain silent, certainly not appreciative of having two people talk about him while he was still in their presence. At the same time, there was nothing to contest in Duo's statement, as he had rather astutely pointed out exactly the thing that had bothered Heero's conscience the most.

"The same might be said of you, then," Trowa rejoined sharply as he led the way further beneath the castle. He spoke as if he knew his comment would silence Duo: "After all, were you not the one who thirsted so readily for vengeance after your brother was lost?"

Duo said nothing, but Heero could tell that Trowa had stabbed at some kind of weakness by the way Duo's hand tightened fiercely around his wrist. They continued on in silence, guided by the flicker of the iron lanterns suspended on the walls. After what seemed like an endless journey, the pathway leveled out beneath their feet and came to an abrupt end in a tiny, round vestibule. There, they found Heavypaw waiting for them, his tail twitching across the floor in an impatient manner that so echoed his master's demeanor.

Once they were all crowded in the small space, Heero again had to suppress a yelp of surprise when the floor suddenly plummeted beneath them. It took him a few moments to realize that they had been standing on an enchanted platform that was now carrying them even further underground. At least he now knew why Undercity remained so inaccessible to people who didn't know how to look for it, though at this rate, it was doubtful he would live to tell the tale.

The platform slowed at the bottom of the chasm, settling in an arrangement of mammoth tusks that somewhat resembled an open flower. A door magically released and slid back, jarring the silence of the ruins above with the hubbub of the bustling undead metropolis, Undercity. Almost too overwhelmed to move of his own accord, Heero allowed Duo to keep pulling him along as they stepped off the elevator and into the city proper.

Undercity was a vast labyrinth the Forsaken had engineered out of Lordaeron's catacombs and dungeons after they had seized it from the control of the Scourge, the Lich King's own undead army. The Forsaken themselves were only a small band of undead that had been wrested from the Lich King's control by the Lady Catalonia, who, herself, had been resurrected as a banshee slave to the Lich King until she had managed to regain her free will. Now allied with the Horde, she sought to cleanse Azeroth of all that would oppose her and her followers - beginning with the one who had woken her from the grave.

Passing through the cavernous tomb that served as Undercity's central hub, Heero knew he was being stared at from all sides. There were more undead gathered in this one place than Heero had ever seen in his entire life, all going about their daily business in a civilized fashion that was surreal to Heero. It was then that it truly struck him that there was no margin for error with this guise, and whether he liked it or not, he was safest at Duo's side.

As they crossed a footbridge that spanned a wide river of sewage, Trowa turned back to inform Duo that he was going to find someone to repair his damaged armour. "Then I have to report to Lady Catalonia and the Silvermoon ambassador in the royal quarters," he said, not bothering to mask his pride that he was allowed such an audience. "Do not send for me until you are ready to leave - and dare not try and steal away without me, either!" He glared at Heero suspiciously, eying him head to toe with disgust before abruptly marching on his way.

Duo was shaking his head hopelessly after his elfin friend, thoughtfully poking his tongue through the tear in his cheek. "By the time we're ready to depart, he will have had a day or two to get over himself," Duo muttered under his breath, partly for Heero's benefit as he dragged him onward.

The place Duo was taking Heero was a section of the city known as the Apothecarium. It was there that Duo and the other members of the Royal Apothecary Society lived and studied, and it was there that Duo intended to make his own preparations for the long journey ahead. Heero, for his part, continued to struggle with keeping his eyes from wandering as they strode by tables covered with alchemists' equipment and bookshelves crammed with tomes that were probably hundreds of years old.

They had managed to go quite some way without interruption until they were passing through a corridor lined with doorways to private studies and were stopped by a hunched Forsaken walking in the opposite direction. His face was heavily scarred and his white hair poofed out on all sides, sort of like a mushroom cap. "Ah, young Master Blackscythe, welcome back," he greeted Duo as amiably as his creaking voice would allow. "I take it you found the Sepulcher's library of use?"

"You could say that, Professor," Duo answered airily.

The elderly Forsaken cast an assessing glance at Heero, and it made Heero feel as if he was being peeled apart. "You haven't been neglecting your research, have you?" the professor said, shooting Duo a very particular glare.

Duo frowned, sounding very offended as he snapped, "Have I ever let you down before, G?"

"No, but...." The professor shot Heero another strange look and then said ambiguously, "You always were the sort to get... distracted...."

Duo's decrepit features stretched into a snide expression: "Thanks for your unyielding confidence, Professor," he said sarcastically. Marking that as the end of the conversation, he lifted a finger and snapped for Heero as he started to continue on his way. Heero dared not glance back at the old Forsaken professor as he quickly trotted after Duo, completely unsure of what to make of the exchange. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more that Duo had not yet told him.

Soon, Duo stopped in front of one of the doors and conjured a large key from the depths of his robes. Opening the heavy door, he ushered Heero inside before closing it and hastily locking it behind them. "No need to work so hard at appearances while we're in here," Duo said as he moved to sit at the large, oaken desk pushed into one corner of the room. "This place is where I can be alone."

Heero let out a grunt of acknowledgement as he took in his new surroundings. The room was obviously once a private burial chamber that had been refurnished to suit the purposes of a study. The wall by the door was lined with bookshelves, with stacks of extra tomes half hidden by a heavy curtain that hung decoratively in the corner. A niche in the stone that had once lodged a corpse was now home to more alchemy equipment. Heero also noted that despite all the personal flourishes in the room, there was no bed, and it occurred to him that the undead probably never had to rest. "Who was that man?" he asked as he sought a place to sit down.

"My mentor," Duo answered simply as he fished through one of his desk drawers. "I've known him forever - even when I was alive. He was... my father's friend." Slamming the drawer shut and yanking out another, Duo chuckled a bit and added, "I suppose he meant to imply something about you. Perhaps you are luckier that it is only now that we are meeting one another." He paused long enough to cast his lamp-like eyes at Heero, their emptiness somehow more piercing than any other gaze Heero had ever endured, and said, "Had this encounter befallen us while I was still lived, you might have found yourself lashed to the headboard instead of that chair." The subsequent chuckle that followed was nothing short of lecherous and maniacal.

Heero had a multitude of things he wanted to say to that comment, but he settled for another grunt, acknowledging to himself how it was sometimes hard to remember that the undead weren't always so. Vaguely, he wondered where Duo had grown up before he had become Forsaken. He had to surpress the urge to ask about it, though, for he had a feeling that Duo was incredibly touchy about the life he lead before he'd died and how different his existence was now. Admittedly, he supposed he would feel the same if he had befallen the same fate, so he said nothing.

Meanwhile, Duo seemed to have found what he was looking for in the depths of his desk. He laid a leather bound journal on the desktop and started flipping through the yellowed pages. "I know I made notes about that sigil you idiots forged," he was muttering under his breath, mostly to himself as he skimmed through the journal. Asahi, the cockroach, had scuttled down Duo's arm and was running in circles on the desktop as if he meant to help Duo find what he was looking for, and with a twitter of his antennae, he called Duo's attention to a particular page in the notebook. Pausing to read more carefully, Duo muttered a thanks at the insect and then started making notations on a nearby scroll of parchment. "An enchanted thorium blade?" he said to himself; "If we pass through Searing Gorge to collect the metal, we'd have to find someone to forge it for us... and someone versed in holy magic...."

"I know a priest of Elune," Heero spoke up, immediately thinking of Quatre.

But Duo waved him off, already far more entrenched in his own plans. He had unearthed a map of Azeroth's Eastern Kingdoms and was bent over it intently, already trying to decide the best route to take. Asahi was trying to help by running up and down the map in a straight line between Lordaeron and Stormwind in the south. Absently, Duo said to Heero, "Why don't you make yourself useful and start gathering the things we'll want to bring with us." He tossed a careless hand in the general direction of a coffin that was being used as a chest instead of its traditional purpose.

Though Heero would have liked to oversee whatever plans Duo was hatching, he didn't protest. He found a leather pack inside the coffin and pulled it out, hoping that the things he thought to fill it with were the same sorts of things Duo would consider useful. He wasn't sure he wanted to experience Duo's wrath firsthand; his intimidating personality was trial enough.

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The haste with which they prepared for the journey might have been overlooked as careless in any other situation, but Duo was insistent that they had very little time to waste with the sigil's demon on the loose. By nightfall, Heero and Duo were already getting ready to meet up with Trowa before heading out on their way.

"It will be suspicious if I give you a new weapon while we remain here," Duo said as he shouldered his favourite staff, a magic rod topped with a purple crystal that glowed. "I will find you something else when we are further from this place."

Heero accepted this logic, supposing it would make no sense for someone's brainwashed servant to carry his own dagger, but it still made him nervous to think that his safety would generally be in the hands of Duo and that disagreeable blood elf. Things seemed to be going according to their arrangement so far, but Heero was never one to assume that smooth sailing meant there was no chance for stormy weather. If anything, the ease with which things were proceeding just put him more on guard. _They are still Horde, and the Horde is still my enemy_, Heero kept thinking.

"We will keep Trowa under the predisposed impression, even when we are traveling," Duo went on, holding out the leather pack, which had since been stocked with rations, potions and coin, for Heero to carry. "The Sin'dorei have even less use for your kind than we do. It will serve you better in the long run if he thinks you are mine, believe me."

Taking the pack and strapping it to his back, Heero responded drolly, "Your consideration for my well-being is astounding."

"Not as astounding as the consideration I have for my own," Duo retorted as he moved to open the door. "Now shut up and do as I say, and you might actually survive this strange circumstance."

Uncaring if Duo had always been so cynical, Heero gnashed his teeth with displeasure at such treatment and kept the scowl on his face even as he followed Duo back into Undercity's twisting thoroughfares. He thought that Duo's survival would be just as impressive as his own if this kept up all the way to Stormwind. He idly thumbed the belt pouch he had stashed the cursed sigil in, reminding himself for what seemed to be the hundredth time that this ordeal was for the good of all Azeroth.

Aboveground, Trowa and Heavypaw were waiting for Heero and Duo in the gatehouse of old Lordaeron with no shortness in impatience, which Trowa was sure to demonstrate with a glare as they approached. Heero wondered how much of it had to do with the blood elves' insatiable appetite for magic and how much was just leftover baggage that Trowa was toting around. Then again, Heero supposed if he had been alive for hundreds of years and endured some of the things Trowa was sure to have, he couldn't say that he wouldn't have turned out the same way.

"We shall backtrack through Silverpine and head towards the Alterac Mountains," Duo announced, immediately taking the lead. Trowa and Heavypaw immediately fell in step after him, and Heero brought up the rear, not about to let that elf anywhere behind him.

Things were relatively quiet as they made their way back towards the Silverpine Forest. A few warg pups ran across their path once or twice, but that hardly yielded much excitement. Duo idly mentioned that he'd like to make it back to the Sepulcher by nightfall, and at the rate they were going, it seemed like they would most certainly meet that goal. But listening to the itinerary Duo had mapped out, Heero figured that they should enjoy this calm while it lasted, for some of the regions they would have to cross would not make for leisurely passing even on a good day.

As the path they were following rounded Lordamere Lake and started to wind its way into the wood, Trowa started rummaging through his hip pouch, fishing around for a small bit of jerky. Pulling it out, he started chewing on it and asked Duo around mouthfuls, "Do you ever have to feed your human?"

Duo didn't even stop to cast Trowa a glare. "I suppose the wisdom of the ages takes more than three hundred and forty years to settle in," he answered sarcastically. After pausing for a few beats, he suddenly exclaimed, "Of course I do! Share some of that dried pig of yours." He made shooing motions at Trowa with his bony hand.

"What, you didn't pack your own pet food?" Trowa sneered back, clearly not keen on this suggestion. He was eying Heero in a way that made Heero wish he could just pull his fist back and launch it right between the elf's green eyes.

"No one asked you to come along on this journey," Duo retorted with flashing eyes. "If you're not going to contribute, you can turn around and march right back to Silvermoon City."

Trowa's reaction was schooled, making it hard to tell exactly what he thought of Duo's comment as he dug into his pouch for more jerky. He shoved a piece in Heero's direction that seemed purposefully smaller than the piece he'd taken for himself, but Heero wasn't about to complain. Still trying to act as soulless as possible, he took the jerky from Trowa and mechanically began to chew on it, all the while wondering if the undead ever had to eat.

Returning to the Sepulcher and parading across the graveyard as plain as day was another surreal experience for Heero, and he found it difficult to keep his bland expression in check while his instincts were screaming at him to cut and run for the cover of the forest. He wasn't sure why he was having such a hard time shaking that restless notion, which somehow seemed to grow beyond the simple explanation of being unused to the company of his enemies. In the end, he supposed he might just be tired.

"Are we breaking here for the night?" Trowa asked, wrinkling his nose as he followed Duo towards the familiar, old inn.

"I am told the ground is also comfortable," Duo said sarcastically from the doorway of the inn, obviously not pleased that Trowa seemed to enjoy questioning his authority over their trip. "Or we can just keep walking, if you'd rather. I'm not one for sleep anymore."

Heero was surprised to hear Trowa let out a rather good-natured grunt at this rejoinder, and even more so to see the blood elf amiably pat Duo on the shoulder as he also entered the inn. The apparent complexity of their friendship struck Heero for its similarities to his own friendship with Quatre, though it was something he wasn't quite sure he could take solace in. He was still having a hard time seeing the Forsaken, the blood elves and the rest of the Horde as a body of people instead of an adversary that needed to be quashed.

While negotiating with the undead innkeeper for nightly lodgings, Duo beckoned for Heero to come stand near him. There was a pretense that Duo had simply needed to fish a few gold pieces out of the pack that Heero carried, but there was something in Duo's behaviour that Heero couldn't help but call protective. Either Duo still possessed some notion of responsibility from when he was alive, or he was just that fixated on having that Stormwind elixir. _That, or he simply doesn't trust me alone_, Heero thought with further pessimism.

With a room secured for the night, Heero, Duo, Trowa and Heavypaw retired for the night. Trowa cast aside his bow and quiver and collapsed onto one side of the large double bed almost immediately, careless of the fact that the mattress was old and the linens moth eaten. Heero had a bit more reservation climbing into such a bed, but he had roughed it outside enough times to know that he should be thankful to sleep in one whenever he could. He sat down on the edge of the mattress, all the while casting an uneasy eye at the comatose blood elf as he tried to decide if it was safe to act a little more like himself.

"When he sleeps, he sleeps," said Duo from a chair by the window, nodding at Trowa. He was absently petting Heavypaw's mane, apparently not bothered by the fact that Trowa's pet would witness the truth about Heero's state of mind. "Even the proud Sin'dorei need rest, I suppose," he went on conversationally as Heero went about removing his boots. "Though I couldn't tell you if it was because they get tired like humans do, or if it is the poisoned Sunwell that causes such fatigue."

"The Sunwell?" Heero dared to wonder aloud, his voice scratchy from a day of disuse.

"After they were exiled from Kalimdor by your night elves, the high elves created a pool of arcane energy with a vial of water drawn from the Well of Eternity from which to draw their power," Duo explained as briefly as he could. "But since Treize attempted to use the magic of the Sunwell for his own purposes, it was weakened and poisoned, and after generations of relying on its power to feed their arcane addiction, the elves of Quel'thalas cannot survive without it."

Heero had a brief understanding of elfin history thanks to Quatre, who had daily association with the few remaining high elves that had found refuge in Lady Relena's court. He had known that there had been some rift that had differentiated the last of the high elves from those who now called themselves blood elves instead, but he hadn't realized that the name alluded to yet another tragedy left in the wake of Treize's conquests. He supposed it would stand that the elves that had abandoned Silvermoon might present a biased account of things, but it was amazing what a difference it made. Heero cast another glance at Trowa, this time feeling a little more empathy towards him. He had always written off the blood elf lust for magic as some kind of insatiable addiction, never before knowing that it was actually a matter of survival for their kind.

"Is that why the blood elves hate the Alliance so?" Heero then wanted to know. "Because they harbour some notion of betrayal?"

Now gazing out the window, Duo simply answered, "Go to sleep, Heero." The warlock seemed to have suddenly taken a heavy thought to mind, and it showed even in his deformed face. Heero knew when a line had been drawn and said no more as he laid back against the mattress, this time less hesitant to let his guard down around Trowa. For some reason, he trusted that Duo would keep a watchful eye out in case harm found its way to their door.

++++

**TBC!!**

++++


	4. Possession

**Title: The Forsaken**

**Author:** Link Worshiper

**Pairings:** 1=2, maybe some others if I feel like it

**Rating:** PG-13

**Stuff:** Fantasy AU, fluff, sap, language, adventure, WoW nerdiness

**Disclaimer:** I own Gundam Wing action figures? Warcraft and its lore belongs to Blizzard Entertainment. Both things are being played with out of fangirl love.

Thanks to danse and Natea for the once over. Despite the fact this is part of Natea's birthday present, I still needed her to fill me in on the Alliance history they don't teach us on Horde, so thanks for that also =P

_Part IV_

_Possession _

Heero was awoken the next morning by a cuff against the side of his head. He opened his eyes to find Duo looming above him, still dressed in the same robes he had been wearing the day before. He had his staff strapped to his back like he was ready to walk out the door right away, which drove Heero to rouse himself quickly. Trowa sat on the other side of the bed, girding himself in the mail shirt he wore underneath his tabard, so Heero made sure to keep quiet.

"I would like to make it to Tarren Mill by nightfall," Duo was saying, mostly for Heero's benefit. "There's a little hidden pathway through the Alterac Mountains that will ensure a quicker passage than having to go all the way around."

"You are quite the slave driver," Trowa commented, pulling on his boots. "One would think there was something you were trying to escape with such haste."

Duo balled his fists and gnashed his teeth with impatience. "I thought I explained to you that the Epyon demon will try and assimilate with the one who is bound to the sigil," he snapped, clearly annoyed that he had to repeat himself. If the shape of Duo's ears hadn't indicated otherwise, Heero might have guessed from his attitude that he had been a blood elf in life as well.

Trowa twisted around on the bed so he was facing Duo. "Then why don't we just kill him and be done with it," he suggested flatly, nodding at Heero's turned back.

Duo looked short of having a tantrum as he shook his clenched fists at the ceiling, his nose turned up towards the rafters. "Because that wouldn't get rid of the demon, _would it_?" he lamented before assailing Trowa with a dastardly stare. "And don't think I don't know what you had in mind, Trowa Sunbender: keep in mind that taking that sigil for yourself would just make the demon want to hunt _you_ instead. Unless, of course," he added with a dastardly chuckle, "you were interested in finding a way to seize the power of the Burning Legion for yourself."

Heero's stomach lurched, and he had to bite his lip to keep from letting a concerned yelp reach his tongue. Instead, he just stared up at Duo with a particularly wide-eyed expression, his mouth contorted into a sickly frown – a silent demand for further explanation. The knowledge that the demon King Milliardo had bade them to seek was a minion of the Burning Legion made Heero question further the intentions of his lord: of what use to the Alliance would be the summoning of a creature whose aim was to return the world to chaos?

Duo caught Heero's stare, but he directed his response to Trowa, who still seemed to be more concerned with the immediate satisfaction of his arcane lust than the broader repercussions of such carelessness. "Did you not know that the way the Warchief Thrall even came into the possession of Epyon was by seizing it from a band of Burning Legion loyalists that had been scheming right beneath his seat in Orgrimmar?" Duo asked dismissively. "He had it destroyed with the same blade that then took off the heads of those who had betrayed the Horde!"

But Trowa just blinked back at Duo with his sleek, catlike eyes, only able to respond with: "My, my, so truly different from the rest of the Forsaken."

Duo frowned again, sensing that Trowa's comment extended beyond the superficial difference in opinion about what should be done with a powerful relic such as the one they now had in their possession. Still, he thought that if Trowa was going to give him trouble for honouring the alliance the Forsaken had forged with the western Horde more than the rest of his people did, then he would blithely ignore it. Perhaps it was his particular outlook on things that had led him to find admiration for Thrall and his allies, whom the Forsaken and the blood elves held in such contempt, and he wondered what it would be like to retain such a respect for orcs, trolls and Tauren if ever he managed to return to his human life at the end of this journey. It was such times that he felt so thinly spread in his loyalties, like butter over too much bread.

The finality with which Duo then snapped his fingers for Heero to get ready made the rogue glad that all he had to do was put on his boots and cloak. Shouldering the supply pack, he quickly hurried after Duo, who had already left the room, taking care to keep his head down. There was something in the easy way that Trowa spoke about demons and killing that put Heero ill at ease.

When Heero reached the bottom of the stairs, he found Duo settling up another tab with the innkeeper. As if he knew that he was there, he blindly beckoned for him to come over. Duo took a few more gold pieces out of Heero's pack and soon replaced them with a bundle of foodstuffs he had bartered out of the innkeeper for Heero's personal health. Heero's instinct was to thank Duo for such bounty, but he was getting rather good at catching himself before he slipped up. Regardless of their cover, he wasn't sure Duo would have appreciated the courtesy anyway.

With that business over with, they moved to sit down at the long dining table that also occupied the room. Sensing that Heero was probably hungry, Duo took the pack and made a production out of offering his mind slave a hunk of bread for breakfast, all the while grumbling about how blood elf men were almost as bad about getting ready as their women.

"I swear, you Forsaken run the slummiest towns," came Trowa's voice at long last, announcing his presence as he descended the stairs. His appearance was pristine and regal, but Heero could tell that he was disapproving of his looks.

As per usual, Duo had a criticism of the Sin'dorei for every complaint Trowa had about the Forsaken: "And _I_ swear, you blood elves are possibly the vainest creatures to ever draw breath," he retorted, forcing his tongue through the stitches in his cheek so it hung through the hole in the most disgusting of manners.

Trowa merely wrinkled his nose at the display, almost as if he were used to such crudeness, and instead just headed for the inn's front door, Heavypaw not far behind. Duo pulled his tongue back into his mouth and smirked triumphantly at Trowa's receding back as he stood. "Keep tabs on this, slave," he said to Heero as he started after Trowa. "I want to be able to rub a numerical score in that elf's face when we reach journey's end."

Heero nodded, but refused to stoop so low as to actually refer back to Duo as his master. Hefting the supply pack once more, he followed Duo outside, and soon, they were on their way.

This time, when they left the Sepulcher, they headed southwest, towards the Alterac Mountains, which separated Silverpine Forest from the Hillsbard Foothills and the Arathi Highlands. Their march towards the mountains remained uneventful, though Heero was glad to note that the gloom of the wood had started to cull itself as they ventured onwards. Before long, Duo, who was leading the way, deviated from the path and started to cut through the forest. The others followed him without protest, though Heero was sure to take stock of his surroundings as they went: if there really was a shortcut through Alterac, he wanted to make sure he remembered it.

The Alterac mountain range was hewn of gray rock and shot abruptly into the air at the edge of the wood, separating it from neighbouring lands with walls of jagged granite. Once nestled between these great hills and the southern shore of Lordamere Lake, Dalaran had seemed like an impenetrable and neutral haven for all the people of Azeroth until Treize had laid seize against it. This had actually happened after Heero had moved on to Stormwind, and he though wasn't sure where it had gone, he had heard a rumour that the city's ruling magi had managed to teleport the entire city onto a pillow of cloud somewhere over Northrend before Treize could completely lay waste to the metropolis. Sometimes, Heero was struck with a great sadness at the realization that he would never be able to truly go home again.

Presently, the traveling party arrived at a low enclave of rock at the base of the mountains. At first, it seemed like nothing of note, but upon further inspection, it seemed the rocks had crumbled down from somewhere above to conceal a narrow passageway. "I used to go this way all the time when I was a brat," said Duo, already falling into a low-bellied crawl with practiced ease. Heero and Trowa stood back and watched as Duo effortlessly wriggled his way under the hanging rock; Heero wondered for what purpose Duo would need to frequently sneak across Alterac as a child, while Trowa shuddered at the prospect of having to slither across the ground like a worm.

It was actually Heavypaw who made the first move to follow Duo, obviously having no qualms with rubbing his face in the dirt. It took a bit more effort for the large cat to get under the rock overhang, but he managed. Almost moments after Heavypaw had disappeared into the cliff side, a shout from Duo could be heard echoing from inside: "While it's still daylight, please! I'm _dying_ in here."

Trowa scoffed and muttered, "_You're_ dying?" though it was hard to tell if the comment was meant to be ironic or just further disdain for getting his tabard dirty. Still, however reluctantly, Trowa slowly got down on the ground and crawled inside with grace that rivaled even that of his majestic pet. Once Trowa's feet disappeared, Heero gave the forest one last cautionary sweep and then took it as his cue to follow suit. Perhaps it was a trick of the haunted forest, but Heero couldn't shake the notion that there was another member to their group, traveling along behind them and unseen.

Beyond the entrance lay a craggy passage so narrow, they all had to move onwards single file. It was almost pitch black as well, a stark contrast to the sun Heero had been so happy to see that day, and it was only by the light of Duo's glowing staff that they were able to see. As they walked, Heero and Duo managed well enough with ducking only every once in a while when the ceiling got low, but Trowa was so tall, he had to keep his head down almost the entire time.

"Tell your pet to stop treading on my heels," Trowa groused at length, clearly not happy with the state of things.

"Tell _yours_ to stop sniffing me inappropriately," Duo retorted without even looking back at Trowa. It was clear that Duo wasn't exactly in the best of spirits either, despite the jovial persona he seemed to have been exuding most of the day. Heero wondered what was bothering him.

The cavern continued to wind its way through the heart of the mountains, twisting, turning, ascending and dipping in ways that left Heero completely disoriented by the time they emerged on the other end. Therefore, it was almost no surprise when they squeezed through the exit, they were standing on a ledge at a far higher elevation than the entrance. Before them lay the rocky terrain of Alterac Valley, which was tainted by the murky rose aura that lingered in the air above the huge crater where proud Dalaran once stood.

Wordlessly, Duo grabbed for Heero, yanking him over by the arm in a way that tried Heero's patience a little. Duo forcibly turned Heero around so he could rummage through Heero's pack, eventually withdrawing a single gold coin, which he then proceeded to flick over the cliff side. Blankly, they watched the sun glint off the coin as it twirled down, penetrating the dome of magical residue that arced over Dalaran Crater and disappearing without even a clink when it hit the bottom.

"What in hell is wrong with you, flinging money all over the place like you're some kind of benevolent lord?" Trowa demanded to know, still glaring down into the crater as if he was trying to spot the coin amid the debris. "Next time you want to waste gold, just give it to me, and I shall see it rightfully home."

Also frowning down at the crater, Heero silently agreed.

Duo chose to ignore both of them and instead took up his role as leader once again, turning to lead them towards a sharp inclination that barely constituted as a pathway. The descent was perilous, and it seemed the only one who was able to get on without incident was Heavypaw, who, for obvious reasons, was rather well suited for such climbing.

When they reached the bottom of the mountains, Trowa resolutely sat down on a large boulder to catch his breath, which Heero was silently thankful for. False impersonation or not, Heero would have never allowed himself to admit that the descent had taken quite a chunk out of him, though he supposed it was sort of comforting that even one of the nearly immortal elves of Quel'thalas weren't impervious to such peril either. As Trowa broke into his own rations, Heero stared at Duo, silently willing him to give him permission to eat, which Duo soon did with a distracted wave of one hand. Crusty bread had never tasted so good.

It was unsurprising that Duo, with no need to consume foodstuffs such as bread and cheese, eventually grew restless waiting for his companions to finish eating. After pacing around Trowa's rock a few times, he eventually announced to no one in particular that he was going for a walk and that they should be ready to move out when he returned later. He wandered off in the direction of the crater without even waiting for anyone to respond.

Trowa finished off the last of his food and then reached into his pack to pull out a bottle of milky nectar, which he swilled from liberally before wiping his lip and returning it to his inventory. Then, pulling out a linen-wrapped parcel, he coaxed Heavypaw over to his side. Unwinding the cloth to reveal a small fox he'd hunted in Silverpine, he casually ripped off one its haunches and tossed it to the lion, who hungrily tore into it. Not even looking up at Heero as he started to cut away another morsel with his skinning dagger, he commented airily: "No need to keep up such a farce, human; I'm onto you."

Heero nearly choked on the bread he was in the process of swallowing at Trowa's almost offhanded statement. It was fairly obvious what it was that Trowa had managed to figure out, but Heero refused to allow the elf the satisfaction of knowing he'd won and chose to remain silent instead. Defiantly, he took another bite out of his bread loaf.

"My people have been allied with the Forsaken long enough to know what their magically enslaved prisoners behave like," Trowa went on as he continued to feed Heavypaw pieces of raw meat cut from the fox carcass. He paused for a moment to wipe his bloody hands on the linen wrapping before adding, "If anything, I would venture to say that it is He paused for a moment to wipe his bloody hands on the linen wrapping before adding, "If anything, I would venture to say that it is _you_ who has bewitched _him_. Duo Blackscythe was notorious amongst Forsaken and Sin'dorei alike for his mercilessness towards those who oppose him, and then… then there is you. He has been not himself since he found _you_."

At this final accusation, Heero looked up to find Trowa glaring darkly at him, an almost uncharacteristically expressive frown on his face. Heero decided he cared not a whit for any of what Trowa thought he had observed in Duo, since all he knew of Duo Blackscythe was what he had seen since he had been caught by him that one night in the Sepulcher, and Heero thought that as far as he was concerned, that was all that mattered. So instead of arguing the matter, he simply said, "Acknowledged," and then turned back to his food.

Angrily, Trowa dumped the rest of the fox carcass in front of Heavypaw, who happily tore into it with zeal, and stared off in the opposite direction. He was usually the sort who was less than concerned with the dealings of others, but this situation was far from pleasing to him. He found it wholly dangerous and did not appeal to the notion of having to brand his good friend a traitor because he had forged friendly alliances with the enemy. During the course of this adventure, Trowa decided he would be sure to keep an eye on the Ally for anything suspicious. He simply could not shake the feeling that there was mischief abounds.

Duo returned soon after, though whether or not he could tell what was afoot remained to be seen. With that same morose air he'd displayed atop the Alterac cliffs, he bade them gather their things and took the lead once more. At least now they were passing through the rolling foothills and found the going much easier on their physical beings, though it was hard to say if the unpleasantness that lingered around them was almost worse than the laborious hike.

Eventually, they came to the main road they would have been following if they had not deviated along Duo's shortcut in Silverpine. However, they were only traveling along it for a short while before they became aware of the sound of heavy feet beating the ground behind them. The trio glanced back to find a pair of orc outrunners, each mounted on great, silver wolves, thundering up from the rear at a great pace. Duo groaned in dismay at the sight, clearly not in the mood for dealing with explanations to the questions that were sure to come of this inevitable meeting, while Trowa muttered something about being associated with such a tasteless scene. Meanwhile, Heero could only pray that the two orcs were heading somewhere other than Tarren Mill.

Sure enough, once the wolves and their riders went flying by Heero, Duo, Trowa and Heavypaw, it only took them moments to double back when they realized that one of them was a human. The wolves padded back slowly, clinking with the heavy chains that held their battle-scarred plate armour to their bodies, and the orcs greeted them in the tongue of their people. It was only when Duo replied in Orcish that Heero was struck with the dumbfounded realization that though the Forsaken had their own dialect, Duo had been speaking to him in Common and ocassionaly to Trowa in Thalassian this entire time. Hearing yet a fourth language come fluently from Duo's mouth did not fail to leave an impression on Heero.

Heero did not know Orcish, and therefore, could not understand what was being said, but the conversation Duo had with the two orc warriors went something like this.

"Luk'tar!" the orcs hailed in the way of their people when they stopped to interview Duo and his comrades about their business. "Who are you, and what brings you here?" they demanded to know.

"The Dark Lady blesses and keeps you," Duo said with a deeply exaggerated bow that might have been called mocking by some. "To Tarren Mill we go this fine day."

The two orcs glanced at each other, exchanging a look that signified they were thinking the same thing. The higher ranking of the two spoke for them: "Very well, but why do you make haste to Tarren Mill with _that_ in tow?" He jabbed a greenish finger in Heero's direction to emphasize his question.

"He is my prisoner," Duo answered easily. "Do not fear him, for he has chosen to betray the Alliance to suit our cause."

The orcs stared long and hard at Duo, as if they were unsure they accepted such an explanation. Then they glanced at Trowa, who was staring into space indifferently, and then at Heero, who had the sense to keep his head down and his hands visibly at his sides. The commanding orc, after much personal deliberation, finally let out a grunt of acknowledgement. He then turned his wolf back towards Tarren Mill to continue on his way, his companion not far behind.

"Well, that went smoothly," Trowa commented as the outriders disappeared over the horizon.

"Too smoothly," Heero muttered under his breath. He was still staring at the ground, so he missed the aghast look Duo sent the top of his head or the triumphant smirk adorning Trowa's face nearby.

"Well, at least they didn't pry into it too much, did they?" Duo snapped back impatiently. He started marching forward once again, though his step was very clearly agitated by the defiance of his traveling party. The mood certainly pervaded over the rest of them, and Heero soon forgot his worry that there was something still lurking behind them.

It took them a good portion of the afternoon to cross the foothills to Tarren Mill, which they found at the bottom of a low valley as twilight began to set in. As they followed the pathway down towards the broken village, Heero noted that despite its similarities to the Sepulcher, Tarren Mill was a far livelier outpost. Not only was there more activity around the town square, but it also seemed to boast a more diverse collection of Horde loyalists. However, this naïve curiosity was quick to leave him when they finally reached the edge of the village and it became clear why everyone was rushing to gather outside.

"Ah, so they arrive at last!" came a familiar shout, which was easily recognizable as one of the orc outrunners they'd encountered before. Surrounded by Forsaken, blood elves and trolls, he was standing with his comrade beneath the large tree that was rooted just outside of the ruined church in the town center. "It is good of you to join us: we couldn't have started tonight's entertainment without you."

It was then that Heero and the others noticed that there was a noose hanging from one of the tree's branches, making the orc's intention all too clear. Things suddenly started happening in a blur of motion: a nearby troll grabbed Heero by the wrist and started to drag him towards the makeshift gallows, while the orc outrunner announced, "Thrall's mighty Horde has no use for traitors – even those that might aid in our plight against the Alliance. We shall draw and quarter this one and leave his carcass swinging in the breeze as an example to those who might ever try such a thing again." Finish his rally with a punch at the sky, he cried, "For the Horde!" which the crowd echoed with equal zeal as the prospect of such bloody entertainment drew near.

Trowa only seemed mildly concerned at all this tumult, but Duo was almost sick with anxiety as he wrung his hands and tried to figure out how to talk his way out of this disaster. The thought of losing out on that elixir of life before he'd even had a real chance at it was almost incomprehensible to him. Sensing that Duo was getting worked up, Asahi crawled out a hole in Duo's chest cavity and scuttled up through the collar of his robes with the same distressed fervor of his master.

Meanwhile, as Heero was being forcibly pushed through the crowd towards his end, he could hear his heartbeat thudding loudly in his ears. He felt dizzy, and almost unaware of exactly what was going on as his more primeval instincts began to take over. It was as if the shadow of another being had veiled Heero's conscience and removed him from that place entirely. He was shoved cruelly forward, and he stumbled, falling flat onto the ground to a din of cackles.

When he lifted his face to meet those of his executioners, his eyes were transformed by the demonic glow of hellfire.

Tbc


	5. The Sun and the Moon

**Title: The Forsaken**

**Author:** Link Worshiper

**Pairings:** 1=2, maybe some others if I feel like it

**Rating:** PG-13

**Stuff:** Fantasy AU, fluff, sap, language, adventure, WoW nerdiness

Disclaimer: I own Gundam Wing action figures? Warcraft and its lore belongs to Blizzard Entertainment. Both things are being played with out of fangirl love.

Thanks to danse and Natea for the once over. Despite the fact this is part of Natea's birthday present, I still needed her to fill me in on the Alliance history they don't teach us on Horde, so thanks for that also =P

_Part V_

_The Sun and the Moon_

Before anyone realized what had happened, Heero, possessed by otherworldly evil, leapt upon the orc with teeth barred. He tore into the orc's neck with his blunt, human teeth, chewing down on his jugular until a fount of blood spurted across his face. The other orc grabbed for the battleaxe he wore on his back, ready to swing it as he charged towards his companion's attacker, but Heero was already dropping the first orc's carcass by the time the blade came whizzing at his face. He dodged it with inhuman speed and wrested it from the orc, turning it on him with brutal strength. All of this happened so quickly, it was still a few moments yet before the whole of Tarren Mill erupted into chaos.

The villagers that were present for the hanging all surged forward, enraged that some puny Ally had managed to take down two Orgrimmar captains, but anyone who got within grabbing reach of Heero ended up either injured or in the same state as the two orcs. Yells and screams filled the air, dotted with the sound of cracking bones and the thud of bodies against the dirt.

Trowa and Duo were still hanging back, each trying to deal with the situation in his own way. Duo was still a bit panicked, though obviously for different reasons now, and was busy trying to work out the best way to intervene. Meanwhile, Trowa seemed absolutely aghast, and he stood with his bow in hand like he meant to nock an arrow and end things in his own way. Noticing this, Duo flicked a hand and whipped a tendril of fire magic at Trowa's hand, causing him to drop the bow in surprise. "What in Azeroth was that for?" Trowa growled suckling on his burnt fingers. "We have to do _something_ before he razes this entire town!"

Duo reached over and abruptly smacked Trowa upside the head with a thwack that could be heard above the nearby brawl. "You idiot, are you really that thick? I thought I explained this already," Duo snapped. "If the demon has already possessed him – which it _clearly_ has – then killing him will just give it freedom from the magic that binds it and it will simply find another soul to feed upon. We have to find a way to quell this disaster – and how to _keep Heero alive_ while we do it."

Trowa frowned back at Duo, far from convinced. "I sometimes wonder if it's really just this _demon_ that keeps you so concerned about that Ally's wellbeing," he said, his eyes narrowed accusingly. His patience was wearing thin.

"You don't see me questioning _your_ motives," Duo retorted icily. He then turned his back on Trowa and turned his mismatched hands inwards, twisting them around one another as he muttered a low incantation of summoning to call forth one of his own demonic minions.

Appearing from nowhere, the ghost-like apparition Duo had used to subdue Heero on their first encounter groaned, "What do you need?" He hovered beside Duo, pulsating with fel magics that swirled darkly at the core of his blue shape.

Duo wasted no time in issuing his command: "Bring me the human," he ordered; "Kill anyone who resists you."

"It is done," the blue genie rasped, flexing its scythe-like claws before sailing forward into the melee. Duo chased after it, brandishing a wand he had pulled from the depths of his giant sleeves to support his summoned voidwalker from the rear. Heavypaw charged after Duo, excited by the prospect of fresh meat, while Trowa reluctantly offered his support in the form of a well-aimed arrow or two when things got tight. It was in this fashion that they cut through the thick of the fight towards Heero, who still stood near the hanging tree, staving off anyone who came near with unseemly brutality. It took an unexpected blast of fire from Duo's wand to distract Heero long enough for the voidwalker to make a grab for him.

"Squeeze da life out'ta 'im," a nearby troll screamed at the voidwalker from the place where Heero had left her to bleed to death. "Show dat mangy wolf what we do ta da infected ones." Duo silenced her with another bolt of energy from his wand, his eyes glowing contemptuously as he let his own terrible magic fly.

"Well?" said Trowa, who had now turned his attention to trying to keep the rest of the angry villagers from trying to kill Duo and him also. "Now what?"

Duo barely heard him, already busy with putting together some kind of hair-brained spell that might actually do to calm the demon's possession of Heero. The voidwalker seemed to have a good grip on Heero, but that was only slightly comforting, as his struggling seemed to be wearing the blue ghost down quite a bit. Stowing his wand, Duo conjured a phial of vision dust from somewhere else in his sleeve, setting it to hover between his palms as he imbued it with an enchantment to ward shadow magic. Then, slicing his bony hand over the phial's stopper, he uncorked it and bade the enchanted dust to fly forth. It powdered across Heero's face in a cerulean cloud that sparkled with specks of holy light.

There was a moment where everyone in the vicinity seemed to hold his or her breath when they caught sight of what Duo had done. Clawing his face in what appeared to be pain, Heero threw his head back and let out a wretched scream in a voice that was not his. From his widened mouth shot a blast of dark energy that was no doubt the demon in a wraith-like form; it darted and swirled around Heero's body like an agitated mosquito as it streamed from his mouth, eventually throttling towards the sigil in Heero's hip pack. Inside the pouch, the sigil glowed with a nasty light that shone even though the thick leather as the demon returned to its prison, and Heero fell to his knees and promptly crumpled to the ground.

The moment Heero seemed to have lost his threat, the spectators tried to surge forward again, ready to tear him limb from limb, but Duo held them back with his staff. "He belongs to me," he growled at the Horde villagers, pushing them back as best he could while Trowa reluctantly checked on Heero.

"Then you should die for this atrocity as well!" someone in the crowd shouted, referring to the many that had fallen to Heero's hand.

"Well, _that_ would be a relief, since I'm already _dead_," Duo rejoined smartly, not about to give in to idle threats. Deciding that scaring them with the worst-case scenario might work in his favour, Duo added, "Now, unless you want to see the rise of _another_ Lich King, I suggest you let us go about our business." Just as he predicted, the mere suggestion of such a horrific thing was quick to shut them up, leaving Duo free to turn his attention back to Heero as they hurriedly dispersed.

"Well, in any case, it at least looks like he is physically well," Trowa informed Duo as the warlock approached the place where Heero had toppled over. "Though with him thusly unconscious, I cannot tell if that is the end of it."

Duo seemed subdued as he knelt beside Heero and gave him another examination to confirm what Trowa had said. Truthfully, he was more relieved than anything. Though no one would ever know, he had been terrified that they weren't going to make it out alive back there, especially since he had previously no idea what their first encounter with the Epyon demon would be like. It unnerved him to think they had less time to act than he had thought.

"Duo," Trowa said at length, still crouched across from him, on Heero's other side. He waited for Duo to acknowledge him with a grunt before continuing: "What you said to the villagers to make them draw back – about this human becoming another Lich King – is that true?"

A sigh escaped Duo's lips, though he was silent for a few moments before he looked up to meet his friend's concerned stare. "It is not an unforeseeable path," he murmured forlornly. "Just as the corrupted Treize was lured into fusing with the demon, Dermail, so the same could happen to Heero if we are not careful. Treize took up the cursed blade Frostmourne in hopes of saving his people from the Scourge, just as Heero found the Epyon sigil. Treize was undone by the very things that made him a champion of Lordaeron, and I fear what might bring Heero to his end." Brushing a chunk of clotted blood off of Heero's cheek, he whispered, "We are standing on the precipice of something foul."

It was this explanation that seemed to finally reveal the gravity of their situation to Trowa, whose contempt seemed to cull after Duo spoke. Trowa had firsthand witnessed Treize's invasion of Quel'Thalas at the betraying hands of a close friend, and he shuddered at the thought of echoing such dark times. "So what do we do next?" he asked, staring passed Duo's head to see if anyone from the town was still loitering. "I somehow doubt that we will find a safe night here anymore."

Duo twisted around to see what Trowa was staring at, and though there was nothing terribly out of the ordinary happening in the town square, he knew that Trowa was right. "Maybe we should just press on and make camp somewhere further down the road."

"Can we make it with the human like this?" Trowa asked as Heavypaw gave the still unconscious Heero a tentative nudge with the back of his paw.

Duo silenced Trowa's question with a menacing glare and said flatly, "Well, we're going to have to, aren't we." Then he launched into a volley of prompt directions that made Trowa's eyebrows twitch in annoyance. "You grab his arms, and I'll lift his ankles. And make sure we are covering our trail and that no one is following us. The last thing we need is to have our throats slit in the middle of the night."

And so, with Heero slung awkwardly between them, the pair slipped away from Tarren Mill as discreetly as possible. Heavypaw foraged the way ahead while Trowa kept his eyes trained on the road behind them. It never hurt to be too careful, but Trowa had a feeling that no one would dare try and follow them after the monstrous display that had just decimated Tarren Mill.

Heero was heavier than he looked, and there were a few times they had to stop for a rest, unwise as it probably was on a well-traversed path. Between carrying him and all the breaks, they were making very poor time, and the fact that they were traversing foothills didn't make their journey any easier, and there were a few times when the sheer ardour of it gave the banter between Duo and Trowa a somewhat unsavoury flavour. But when dusk started to settle in and Heero had yet to even bat an eyelash, Trowa had reached the end of his rope. "It matters not to me what you do, but I am through with this task," he announced at their next rest, holding his hands aloft in defeat. "We can either make camp somewhere around here for the night, or you can carry the human by yourself, but I am through being his porter."

"What, is such work too below your station?" Duo asked, pausing in his efforts to try and rouse Heero, whose sleep seemed more and more to be some kind of enchanted offset of the Tarren Mill incident. Deridingly, he hissed, "If you are going to keep roaming the world as you are, then you had better get used to the fact that your being a prince no longer means a thing. After all, what good is a prince who has abandoned his people?" He was stooped next to Heero's body, but one wrong word from Trowa, and it would have taken him only a mere instant to pull his wand back out of hiding.

For his part, Trowa fielded the insult rather well, though he was inwardly blistering at such ilk. He gripped his bow in an equally threatening way as he said in a tight voice, "I have not abandoned Quel'thalas; I am merely searching Azeroth for a means to restore the Sunwell to the way it was – _for my people_."

Duo pointedly ignored Trowa, as he was wont to do when Trowa got too high and mighty for his tastes. Even in life, though he was often trusted with great responsibilities, Duo had never been more than an acolyte of Elune and often found distaste in most upper class gentry. He supposed it might be strange that he and Trowa were actually quite good friends, but then again, they had bonded long before Duo found out exactly who Trowa was. And besides, Trowa had yet to do anything that threatened the delicately balanced calm in Azeroth, thus leaving Duo with no real reason to dislike him, despite previous experiences with such people.

Trowa was scaling a small hill in search of a good place to make camp for the night that was off the main road, leaving Duo to struggle with Heero's body alone. Hooking his arms beneath Heero's armpits, he dragged him across the ground, still amazed that Heero remained asleep. He wished he knew enough about the demon's magic to be able to tell if Heero's slumber was a good or a bad sign. "You better wake up soon," he grunted as he struggled after Trowa, nearly tripping over his long robes. "A cadaver will be of no use to me when we reach Stormwind."

"Is that all you can really think about?" Trowa asked as Duo and Heero tumbled down the knoll, nearly kicking out the small fire Trowa had started amid a circle of rocks. "You say you fear what this human might become, but your motives are even more selfish than mine, Duo Blackscythe."

Duo seemed slightly caught off guard by such a blunt statement, and instead busied himself with disentangling himself from Heero's person and rearranging his body across the grass. "Well, it wouldn't do to revive myself only to become undead again, would it?" he insisted as he removed Heero's cloak and wound it upon itself to create a makeshift pillow.

"You are a poor liar," Trowa said, rummaging through his pack for something to gnaw on. He was disappointed to find that all he had left was a few hard biscuits and a stale crust of bread. Standing and shouldering his bow, he announced that he was going to go and hunt down some dinner for the lot of them.

"Do as you please; I do not require such things," answered Duo, waving Trowa off casually. "Just be careful; we are approaching the highlands, and that is Syndicate territory. You are useless to me if you come stumbling back to camp stripped of all your things."

Trowa scoffed with insult, "Do you think I'm careless enough to allow myself to be mugged by mere thieves? You must take me for something far less than I am."

Duo just stared blankly at Trowa, who soon turned on booted heel and marched off into the nearby wood in search of game. Duo didn't move until he was sure Trowa had moved out of earshot and then allowed himself a heavy sigh. He scrunched his knees up against his chest and pressed his forehead against them. He knew Trowa was astute, and he wondered if he would really be able to keep the intentions he knew Trowa would disprove of under wraps for the duration of this journey. Once again sensing his master's discontent, Asahi crawled from the depths of Duo's decayed innards and tried to offer comfort as well as a roach could.

"Thanks, buddy. You did always stick around when things seemed the most bleak," Duo muttered at the cockroach, using a finger to toy with his antennae. He sighed again and went on, "And you have been my friend long enough to know the heart of all this." He smiled to himself, though it was a rather nostalgic one; it was pathetic that the only true friend he had managed to keep was an insect. "My soul has wandered the same ground for so long. I never thought I would be teased with such repose."

Asahi bounced empathetically on Duo's shoulder while his master stared forlornly at his sleeping companion, wishing desperately they could speak candidly with each other. "I suppose loneliness is another curse of death," Duo commented, watching Heero's chest rise and fall with each slow breath. "To be alone and forgotten."

So mired was he in his despondence, Duo was no longer keeping a keen eye on the surrounding countryside. He never heard the sound of feet coming over the hill or saw the shadows lurking behind until they were virtually upon him.

Further off, Trowa sat atop a fallen tree trunk, his heart racing as he dug through his pack once more. Certainly he had every intention of hunting down something to eat, but before he did that, he decided he had to stop and drain the trinket he had stolen from Heero of its magic. It was a miracle he had already managed so long on his feet after going so long without a hit of arcane energy, and the mere knowledge that he had finally managed to steal something that would remedy his craving had been driving him mad since they had departed from Silverpine.

Pulling it out of his bag, he dangled the owl-shaped charm from its chain in front of his pert nose, chewing his lip in excitement as he reveled in the powerful energy pulsating across the silver. He lifted a hand and grabbed the trinket, drawing his long fingers across its surface. Unexpectedly, at his touch, the charm glowed a whitish blue that was so bright, Trowa had to squint and look away as an unfamiliar voice demanded, "Who are you?"

Trowa turned back to face the light, confusion written across his handsome features as he tried to discern what had happened. In the middle of the glowing aura that now hovered in the air before him was the face of a blond human male with the largest blue eyes Trowa had ever seen. He did not look very pleased to see Trowa from his end of the communication portal, which was cemented by his furthered agitation: "Where is Heero? How did you get his charm?"

Trowa's face was schooled with indifference as he said blandly, "I stole it."

This did not seem to sit well with the blonde, whose frown simply deepened at this information. "And what became of my friend?" the human asked, his voice coiled.

A sneer coated Trowa's face as he answered, "Why should I tell something like that to a nosy Ally like you?"

"Because I asked," the blond replied smartly. "Please tell me at least that, or I might find cause to send a search party out to Hillsbard to find you."

The threat was delivered in a rather well mannered tone, but there was something about the way the blonde human spoke that prickled Trowa's skin. It was probably the realization that Heero's friend was hardly a slouch when it came to clever tactics and that Trowa was going have to exercise immense caution if this discussion was to continue. He already found discomfort in the fact that the blond human seemed to know exactly where he was. Deciding two could play this game, Trowa said, "The one you call Heero is with my companion in our encampment nearby." He added ambiguously, "He is being… well guarded."

A concerned look crossed the human's face. "You mean, he has been taken by the Horde?" he wondered, clearly not relieved to hear such news. He was quick to regain his composure, however, and he pressed, "What will you do with him?"

Trowa shrugged, "I don't much care. I am merely following to whet my magical appetite."

The blonde narrowed his eyes with displeasure. "I do not believe you, elf," he said darkly. "Heero has no use for magic; there is no way he possesses enough to satisfy one such as yourself."

Idly, Trowa started pulling off one of his gloves, one finger at a time. "My companion does not seem to think so," he commented idly, easing his hand out of his leather encasement. "Perhaps his enchanted remains will revitalize the Sunwell." Tossing his glove aside, he conjured a small bead of draining magic with which he would use to siphon the power out of the owl charm. "In the meantime, I will do what I can for my own campaigns."

"Wait!" the human cried, lifting a demonstrative hand as if it might actually stop Trowa's spellcasting. "Please don't abandon me in such a way. Heero is my oldest friend; I cannot let you just bear him away without a word."

Trowa clenched his fist around the siphon spell, glaring sharply at the human through the portal. "Why should I?" he wanted to know. "What will you do for me?"

The human seemed to be taken aback at such an abrupt demand, but it was something that probably should have been expected. "What is it you might need?" he asked cautiously.

Trowa arched his eyebrows, a rather sinister smile crossing his lips. "What are you, a priest? Are you powerful?" he asked lackadaisically. "Perhaps you could find a way to keep me sated with your magic."

The human's eyes darted away, fixated on something to the side that Trowa couldn't see through the portal. "I might be able to see after something like that," he muttered grudgingly. "But in exchange," he added quickly, his voice regaining its former confidence, "I must demand that you let Heero go!"

Trowa picked at a fingernail, hardly even gracing the human with eye contact. "If only it were that simple," he commented mysteriously.

"What does that mean?" the blonde pressed anxiously, far from consoled. "What have you done with him?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing," Trowa hummed, taking secret pleasure in how riled his ambiguous comments were making the human. "But I'm afraid he will have to stay in our keep for some time longer. It seems he has made a deal with my companion, you see, and it would not do for him to swallow his word. You would then find him a grave man." At this final comment, Trowa could hardly resist the urge to throw his head back and laugh, absolutely undone by the disconcerted expression that had overtaken the human's face.

"The world has darkened your heart," the blonde said tartly, a frown still adorning his face in a way that might almost be considered adorable. But admirably, he kept his resilience in the face of such contempt: "Still for the sake of my friend and his honour, I will do ask you have asked, Sir…." He trailed off, expecting to be filled in on the blood elf's name.

Picking up on the implication, Trowa said curtly, "I am Prince Trowa Sunbender, Lord of Silvermoon, ruler of Quel'thalas, the Sun King." The smirk returning to his face, he said derisively, "And you are?"

The human swallowed, though he refused to be intimidated by Trowa's royal status. "They call me Quatre Raberba Winner, High Priest of Theramore and chief advisor to Lady Relena Proudmoore."

Amusement rode across Trowa's face as he said, "Ah, so you are High Priest Winner; I have heard of you." He grinned, though it was hard to say what made him do so: "Who would have thought that an Ally thief such as your friend could have friends seated in such comfortable places. This might do well for him." He took up the owl charm again, and added with a note of finality, "You have two days to deliver the first of what you have promised me. If it serves, then I might leave your friend alone once his purpose has been filled." Then he gave the owl charm a rub, and with another flash of bright light, he was left alone in the woods once more, though far more satisfied than he had been before he'd accidentally spoken to the priest.

Pocketing the charm and replacing his glove, Trowa took up his bow and quiver once more, whistling for Heavypaw to come back to his side. But when the lion did not immediately come running from the woods, Trowa's mood quickly shifted to one of concern. Quick to fall back on his expert tracking skills, the blood elf prince followed the trail Heavypaw had left while romping through the nearby wood. It seemed that the lion had been amusing himself until something had cause it to stop and turn back towards their camp. Certain that Heavypaw had sensed something amiss while he had been distracted by Quatre, Trowa made haste for their campsite, preparing for the worst.

And lo, when he burst from the wood, he was almost unsurprised when he found that both Heero and Duo were nowhere to be found.


	6. The Circles of Binding

**Title: _The Forsaken_**  
**Author:** Link Worshiper  
**Pairings:** 1=2, maybe some others if I feel like it  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Stuff:** Fantasy AU, fluff, sap, language, adventure, WoW nerdiness  
**Disclaimer:** I own Gundam Wing action figures? Warcraft and its lore belongs to Blizzard Entertainment. Both things are being played with out of fangirl love.

Thanks to danse and Natea for the once over. Despite the fact this is part of Natea's birthday present, I still needed her to fill me in on the Alliance history they don't teach us on Horde, so thanks for that also =P

_Part VI  
The Circles of Binding_

It didn't take long for Trowa to figure out that Syndicate thieves were behind this new problem: they held many of the abandoned castles in the area as bases of operation, not to mention the fact that they had left signs of a characteristically sloppy ambush in their wake. More annoyed than anything else, he clambered over the hills and back towards the main path, all the while looking for clues as to which of the nearby strongholds this particular band of thieves might have taken his comrades. Part of Trowa wanted to just dash it all and keep on his way, but even he knew that there wasn't much sense in that without the main components of this entire escapade. Besides, he figured it would be smart to keep tabs on Heero if he was going to milk that priest friend of his for some kind of magic supply; he'd noticed that humans seemed to be annoyingly sentimental about such things.

He had no sooner thought these things before he found Heero sprawled across the path a couple yards away. Trowa hurried towards him and knelt at his side, a little frustrated to note that the human was still asleep under whatever curse the demon had left within him. "Useless," he grunted, moving to heft Heero over one shoulder. "Where the hell is Duo when you need him?"

At least Heero seemed a bit lighter this time, though Trowa was loathe to realize that it was because the pack he'd been carrying had been stolen. Trowa knew it wasn't Heero's fault that most of their supplies were now missing, but it didn't stop him from taking it out on his comatose body with a tight grip that dug ferociously into Heero's skin. He hoped he would come across Duo soon, if only to berate him.

Trowa soon got his wish as Heavypaw darted ahead and over towards a nearby fen that lay just off the pathway and down a short hill. The lion scampered up to a familiar body, which lay facedown in the swampy grass. His robes were tattered and his staff was missing, but at least he still seemed to be alright. Gracelessly, Trowa dumped Heero's body onto the ground once more and quickly appeared beside his pet, which was busy trying to drag Duo's body out of the bog.

The disturbance caused Duo to start coughing and sputtering as he regained his sense of place. Trowa supervised as Heavypaw deftly rolled Duo over onto his back and silently waited for him to gather enough of his wits to tell him what had happened.

Duo sat up, cracking many of the bones in his body as he did so. A shiver ran down the length of his spine as he shook the dampness from his matted hair. "Before you say anything," Duo began, pausing to spit out a mouthful of moss water, "it's not my fault."

Trowa rolled his eyes, which were burning green with displeasure. "Right, so then I'll blame Sleeping Beauty over there," he said, jerking his head in Heero's direction. "What the hell were you doing to allow yourselves to get ganked by thieves such as they?"

Duo was quick to turn the tables back on Trowa: "Yeah? And where the hell were _you_?" he rejoined, not about to let the blood elf push him around like that. "You were gone so long, I was beginning to wonder if _you'd_ met some kind of end amidst the trees."

"I was _indisposed_," Trowa snapped ambiguously. "Either way, now we are without our inventory and buggered to boot."

"What are you saying?" Duo asked, shakily clambering to his feet. "So we lost a few coins and some equipment - big deal. There are ways around such things."

Trowa arched his eyebrows at Duo as he watched the warlock totter over towards Heero's crumpled form. Duo grumbled under his breath as he rolled Heero out into a more comfortable-looking position and started to pat him down to take better stock of what they'd lost. He wasn't too concerned until he removed Heero's hip pouch and started to root through it, for it was there that he knew Heero kept the demonic sigil. However, finding that it too gone sent him into a bitter rage. Hurling the pouch to the ground, he leapt back to his feet and whirled on Trowa: "Just wonderful! Now we truly are buggered," he fumed, displaying the same level of annoyance as Trowa for the first time since they'd set out. "Those idiots will do something stupid with that sigil, I know it. We have to get it back!"

"We have to get a lot of things back," Trowa answered icily. "I refuse to be pushed around by mere thieves. Now, where did they go?"

Duo let out a frustrated moan, knowing that there were many potential places the thieves could have taken their loot, though it seemed likely they were following the path to their keep in Arathi. He pulled at the longish wisps of hair that fell around his rotted features, gasping, "Who knows what that demon will do if it reappears and Heero is nowhere to be found."

"And speaking of, what are we going to do with your little pet while we go overturning every rock between here and Hammerfall?" Trowa then asked, his flat tone reeking of cynicism. He arched his eyebrows at Heero's body, wrinkling his nose at the thought of how precious Duo was being with him. "I suppose we could just leave him while we search."

Duo's eyes narrowed as he blew an exasperated puff of air through the hole in his cheek: "Then we might as well just skip raiding those damned thieves at all. Having the sigil is useless without Heero; the demon will just rampage until he finds his human vessel again, and that could be disastrous for everyone. At least with both in tow, we can keep it in check until I find the things we need to save him from this fel enchantment."

Trowa's brow creased angrily, hardly bothering to disguise his frown. He did not care for the way Duo treated Heero, and it made him suspicious that there was more to this escapade than he was aware. Bitterly, he hissed, "I am not in the right spirit for any of your lecturing, Duo Blackscythe. We lost fifty and six gold coins to those thieves when they looted you and I refuse to go any further without it. So get your act together and fall in step, because I won't stand for any more of your tricks!" He said the last bit accusingly, carefully watching Duo's face for any sort of betraying flinch, and heavily disappointed to find there was none.

Meanwhile, Duo was still huddled on the ground, desperately trying to come up with a brilliant scheme to make ends meet. He knew it was stupid to send Trowa out looking for thieves while he waited with Heero, but it was still just as pointless to carry Heero between them while slinking around unfriendly territory. He desperately wished he had the power to undo at least this demonic sleep that had possessed Heero and tried his best to think of a hurried solution for the time being. Now plucking at the long grass that bent around his legs, he tried to assess what had triggered this state upon Heero at all in case it led him to any strokes of brilliance.

"I don't see why this ails you so," Trowa sighed at long last. He was kicking at the bog water, amusing himself with the way Heavypaw would cover his face whenever the water got too close. "A passerby would think him dead if they saw him lying here; I don't think you have to worry so much about his wellbeing - if that is what the case may be." Trowa shot Duo a knowing but wary glance, still carefully searching the warlock's face for the slightest betrayal of emotion.

He was pleased to find that this comment was able to get a rise out of Duo, who was quick to leap to his feet and hiss, "His wellbeing is the difference between life and death, not only for us, but for all of Azeroth." He strode towards Trowa and snatched a handful of his tabard with his bone fingers, dragging his face to level with his: "Imagine what would have happened if Milliardo Wrynn had been able to wrest that demonic power for himself, as was his intention? It would be just as he took the seat of Stormwind for his own, not for the good of the Alliance, but for his own selfishness!" Duo was really getting worked up, shaking Trowa this way and that as spittle flew from his throat. "So long as we keep Heero and that sigil with us, we can ensure the banishment of that fel beast and thus, another calm day." With that, he gave Trowa a hearty push, sending him stumbling backwards into the fen, where he teetered and fell with a splash. Neither one laughed.

Now drenched, Trowa glared up at Duo from behind his long bangs, hardly looking as regal as someone of his princely station ought. "Well, isn't it good to know that _someone_ has been keeping himself brushed up on the underbelly of Alliance history," he growled, his displeasure now ten times what it had been prior.

Duo stood at the edge of the bog, his arms crossed beneath the huge folds of his sleeves as he glared down at Trowa unsympathetically, determined to stand his ground. "Until the day I died, such things were my life," he reminded Trowa bitterly.

"So were they mine," Trowa spat back with eager animosity, quivering with such rage that the water around him rippled like a boiling soup.

They remained at this ugly stalemate for quite some time, each trying to silently outweigh the other's history with just the power of his anger. It was a silly thing to argue over, really, since both their races were once formerly of the Alliance until tragedy drove each away from their roots and gave them cause to join with those who had once been their enemies. But with the way the tension had been building between the two of them since they'd set out, it was unsurprising that they would fall apart over something so trite.

It was a rabble from the highroad that eventually quashed their spat, at least for the time being. At the unexpected sound, both Duo and Trowa were quick to duck for cover amid the boggy reeds, where from they spied upon the path for the source of the noise. Duo prayed that Trowa's assertion that Heero seemed as if a corpse would ring true.

Sure enough, there came into sight the very band of thieves that had had raided them, immediately given away by the fact that one of them carried Duo's stolen staff. There were only seven of them, but they seemed to have done very well that day in Hillsbard, for they were laden with other items and packs that did not belong to Duo or Trowa, and were drinking with revel from flasks as they ambled down the road towards Arathi. Their disagreement immediately forgotten, Trowa and Duo were already mouthing silent attack plans to one another, certain they wouldn't get another chance like this, even before the thieves took note of Heero.

"Wait," said the ringleader of this particular band of Syndicate ne'er-do-wells, holding up a hand. He glanced down the knoll to where Heero lay on his back, artfully arranged as if he had been napping there. "What ho is this?"

"'Tis a peasant, sirrah - an adventurer, methinks," slurred one of the other thieves as he knocked back another shot from the flask he was holding. "Probably dead."

"Yes, yes, probably," said the leader ponderously as he stroked his beard and stared down at Heero's body. "But he seems the same dead adventurer whose corpse we left behind half a league back. How ever did it find its way here?"

At this suggestion, the rest of the thieves all huddled around their leader, as if standing in his exact position would allow them the sight to recognize the body. If they all weren't so drunk, they probably would have had the sense to flee at such a suggestion, for anyone in Azeroth knew that the dead who walked were most likely in the service of the Lich King. They also might have been more attuned to the movement in the nearby underbrush before an arrow came whizzing from behind, embedding itself deep into their leader's skull. So drunk were they that it even took a moment for all of them to register what had happened before someone thought to panic and send the lot of them scattering. Such alarm was useless, though, for there soon came another arrow, and then a burst of flaming magic right before they were ambushed by Heavypaw and one of Duo's summoned creatures.

It wasn't until Heavypaw was sitting amid a field of fallen bodies, idly licking the blood off his fur, that Trowa and Duo emerged from hiding. Both feeling rather self-satisfied, they set to looting the corpses, even more pleased to find that they'd made profit by adding the other stolen goods to their inventory. They doubled their rations and tripled their coin, not to mention the discovery of some smaller items they thought would come in handy later. At the end of it all, Trowa smugly removed the missing sigil from the Syndicate leader's purse, reveling in its repossession until Duo snatched it back and slunk back towards Heero. "Nice try," he called back at Trowa as he replaced the sigil in Heero's hip pouch.

"You know," said Trowa as he squatted down on the edge of the path, amusedly watching as Duo struggled to lift Heero's body on his own, "we, too, will be passing through Arathi."

"Yes, so? What of it?" Duo wheezed, already exasperated by the chore of trying to haul Heero back to where Trowa waited on the path. He kept telling himself he would be allowed to punch the blood elf if he managed to get there.

Trowa arched his eyebrows, as was his way when he was particularly entertained. "They say it is steeped in magic," he said elusively. "That the very essence of the Earthmother is what breathes life into the rocks and draws the spirits of the land to the old enchanting circles built in her honour."

"For the love of Elune, stop toying with me and say what you mean, elf!" Duo grunted as he dragged Heero across the pebbly ground and began up the side of the hill towards the road. It was a miracle of the enchanted sleep that Heero did not wake and strangle Duo for such rugged care.

Deciding that he'd had enough fun for the time being, Trowa finally gave in and nudged Duo a bit more sharply: "Did you not once know a Tauren druid in your youth?" he pressed. "I seem to recall you telling me that she was your primary fount of knowledge about their culture when you studied in Dalaran."

"Yeah, so?" Duo was having a hard time giving it proper thought while trying to drag Heero up to where Trowa sat.

"So," Trowa meandered with the thought, "did she not teach you their ways of communicating with the earth?"

"What, are you saying we should use a Tauren ritual to ask the Earthmother to wake Heero?" Duo asked as he finally reached the roadside, though it was still a struggle to keep his footing and not lose hold of Heero, whose furthered lack of cooperation was wholly unhelpful. "I suppose it's worth a try. A god would have more luck with this business than we would, anyway...."

Duo was too focused on his task to notice the way Trowa was shaking his head bemusedly at the entire display, proof of their friendship despite its jagged appearance. With a final yank and a gasp, Duo finally managed to deposit Heero beside Trowa, though the backside of Heero's jerkin had suffered the consequences for it. Flopping down on his back next to Heero for a rest, Duo stared up at the cloudy sky and said, "Sometimes I wonder if the Burning Legion sent you out for the sole purpose of torturing me beyond even _undeath_."

Trowa let out a laugh at this accusation, one of the few he'd allowed himself in the entirety of their journey. "They do say everything in life has a purpose, though we may not always have cause to know what that is," he commented sagely.

Duo frowned at the clouds, wondering what purpose theirs might be. "Lately, I feel as though mine is being teased," he said, his voice a little nostalgic. His body had felt nothing since he'd died, and yet, he couldn't shake the anxious feeling that had suddenly overtaken him. It was strange for him to imagine that he still carried some of the things he thought he had left behind in another life.

"The word for that is 'destiny'," said Trowa, assuming a similar position to Heero and Duo, though he took the liberty of folding his arms behind his head.

Duo turned his head towards his companion, unsure if he was being facetious or not, but found he was unable to read his relaxed face. He felt as if he had set out on this journey eons ago, but had since only been walking in circles to bide his time. He wondered if, at the end of it, he would find that he had managed to get anywhere at all.

--

His ears were filled with the whispers of death. Around him, the blackened world in which he hovered seemed to be hung only with gray shadows that wafted as if they were being carried on a ghostly breeze. He blinked - or he tried to - but it was like he was seeing a world that did not require the power of vision. He paused and tried to breathe, wondering where he was and how long he had been there. O, but it felt like he had been laying there all his life, and could, for the rest of his life, there, remain.

However, he could not say that he was entirely ill at peace, despite the somber air his surroundings held. It was as if he were in some kind of realm between worlds, waiting for some kind of rite of passage to take place so that he might proceed onwards. Curiosity as to where that might be teased him a bit, but he was content to wait if waiting was what he ought to do. That was easy enough: it was like an order, and orders were something that he had built his life upon.

Then, beneath the ever-present mutterings of the dead, he thought he heard singing - a familiar traditional from the days when he'd roamed the streets of Dalaran. By the Light, he had not heard such a hymn in ages, and for the first time since he'd found himself here, he felt the will to move. No sooner had he made this decision did the bland scenery around him meld into that of beautiful Dalaran, with its elfin spires and abundant gardens. He looked around, enthralled; he had not been here in an eternity. As he walked, he found himself recalling snippets of his life past as if they were pieces of a fragmented dream.

But even as he wandered the streets, he knew it was somehow different - that this wasn't truly Dalaran. It still bore the grayish hues of this unearthly place and seemed devoid of all life, even as the sounds of the hymnal grew louder in his ears. It was then that he came to the realization that he was utterly alone, and in doing so, stood amazed that he had gone so long without noticing. He wondered where his companions had gone, or if they had at last abandoned him to whither away. The thought instilled another urge within him - one that demanded some sort of emotion, but one he could not put a finger on, for he then found himself somehow devoid of his ability to feel. Such a discovery made him want to be angry, but that, too, was unreachable. It was almost as if that part of him had been physically clawed out of his chest and hidden away, leaving him only able to rationalize questions such as who or why - or if there was something else he should be remembering that had somehow also been swallowed up in this netherworld. It was as if he were a mere toy in some grand scheme.

The singing escalated as he started to tear through the streets, heading all the while towards the Violet Citadel. He was a man possessed by the notion that there was something for him to glean from this vision, and it drove him to persist onwards. He stumbled over his own feet and fell forward, his hands barely saving his face the pain of colliding with the cobblestone roadway. But no sooner had he hit the pavement did he realize that the masonry was crumbling away beneath him, falling down like stone rain into the dark abyss that stretched out beneath the dream Dalaran. His eyes widened in fear to see that looming in the blackness was none other than the huge ifrit that had killed his guildmates; it hovered there, as if it were waiting for the rest of Dalaran to fall away and send him plummeting into its awaiting claws. Its eyes burned hungrily as it roared up at him with yearning.

He screamed.

All at once, Heero's eyes snapped open and he woke up, nearly blinded by the overwhelming sunlight that filtered through the clouds overhead. Afraid to even move lest he disturb what might have been some other kind of dream, Heero took in a few deep, heavy breaths, his fingers attempting to clench a handful of the stone slab he found himself lying upon.

"Heero?" The voice was tentative but familiar. Heero allowed himself to turn his head in the direction the voice had come from, actually somewhat relieved to see Duo leaning on his staff nearby. He might have been a bit groggy still, but he almost imagined that there was some hint of worry on Duo's flesh-eaten face.

"Where are we?" he wondered, shimmying into an upright position. Because the air here was damper and the scenery more mossy and green, he knew they were no longer in Alterac, but he was still a bit too disoriented to call up any sort of map in his head.

"In the Arathi Highlands," came another familiar voice, though it was a little less welcome than Duo's. Heero turned to see Trowa crouched on a nearby boulder, Heavypaw lingering around its base with his usual languid ease. "You have been an unhelpful burden since we left Tarren Mill."

And so they were, Heero noted, ignoring anything else that was said as Duo launched into yet another tiff with Trowa. Arathi had always been one of the most beautiful places in Azeroth, Heero thought: it was always a bit gray and rainy there, but it kept the grass all the more lush, and the huge stones that had been arranged in ritualistic prayer circles all over the landscape only added to the place's mystique. It was then that he realized that they were gathered in the middle of just such a prayer circle. For a moment, he thought to ask why they were lingering in such a place, but reason was quick to make sense of that... if the elemental spirits lingering around its perimeter were any clue. He nodded at them, a silent word of thanks.

For a moment, Heero wondered if he should tell either of them about his dream, but then thought wiser of it when he found he could not immediately speak up about it. There would be plenty of time to explain it if the need ever arose, he decided, silently watching as Duo uncouthly bit his thumb at Trowa. He found himself instead distracted by the notion of how human the pair of Horde allies was behaving. He wondered if it was something he was privy to because they no longer regarded him as a threat, or if he was starting to see something in them he hadn't taken the time to notice before.

Still, he couldn't help but wonder if there was something that they were hiding from him. Neither had bothered to explain exactly how they had ended up all the way in Arathi, when it seemed like only moments before, they had been in Tarren Mill. He remembered the orcs that had tried to have him publicly executed there, but nothing beyond that. He supposed they must have nearly had their way with him and he'd been incapacitated all through Hillsbard. That made sense, he thought; it would explain why Trowa had been complaining about being inconvenienced.

Duo seemed to have taken notice of Heero's silence, and, catching sight of the way Heero was examining himself from the corners of his eyes, stopped goading Trowa in order to turn his attentions on his human ward. "What's wrong?" he asked, though it was hard to tell quite where his concern stemmed from. "You're not missing something else are you?"

Heero's head snapped up, his blue eyes jagged with curiosity. "What do you mean?" he asked suspiciously.

Fiercely, Duo clamped his open mouth shut and pursed his thin lips. It was easy to forget that despite the seeming camaraderie the three of them had forged, they all still had plenty of reasons to distrust one another. "You just seemed concerned about your person is all," Duo ground out, hoping he didn't sound too uncertain. He hadn't meant to let all that business with the thieves slip out so soon. Explaining what had transpired in Tarren Mill up to that point was something Duo was still privately fussing about, unsure what the best way to broach the subject would be.

Realizing what had caught Duo's attention, Heero answered with a shrug, "I thought I might have been injured, that's all."

"Not physically, anyway," Duo said before he had a chance to recant. He stared at Heero for a few long seconds, the ghostly light in his eye sockets flickering as he brooded over what to say next. Clutching his staff tightly in both hands, he glanced away, frowning at one of the large boulders that stood around the edge of the enchanting circle. "That is to say, I'm not even quite sure 'injured' is the word."

Trowa was quick to interject with his usual blunt air. "Can you walk, human?" He crossed his arms and waited for Heero to answer. Upon seeing Heero slide off the stone slab he'd been lying on and take a few steps away from it, he summed up with a shrug, "You see? Not injured. Let's go." He abruptly leapt from his own perch, landing in a well-balanced crouch next to Heavypaw.

"Hey, you calm down, Your _Highness_," Duo jibed derisively, unimpressed with Trowa's habit of wrangling control of the expedition away from him. He ambled over to Trowa, bending down to hiss into his long, elfin ear: "I think you're taking all of this a bit _too_ lightly."

"And I think you're coddling that human," Trowa sniped back, not about to let Duo domineer their journey in a way he didn't approve of. "Cursed or not, I still think you gave your trust to him too easily."

"So what if I did?" Duo groused, sensing another row on the horizon. "It's none of your business."

However, Trowa wasn't about to be written off so easily, and he was quick to say, "Whether you want me here or not, as long as I am a part of this fellowship, it is as much my business as anyone else's. I won't allow you to make a fool of yourself or me because some conniving Ally had you on a leash." His tone was acidic, but there was a sincerity in his face that spoke of the concern he had for his friend in the whole affair. After a weighted pause, Trowa added, "Haven't you thought completely on the matter? We are leading a cub back to a den of wolves. Who knows what they will do to us when we get there."

Duo was exasperated by Trowa's inability to understand the whole arrangement and sourly wished he wouldn't have to keep repeating himself lest he end up telling more than he had vowed he would. "Look, I know that the world we live in is one where we all best ought to tread lightly, but...." He paused, glancing away as he absently fingered the leather stitches in his cheek. "Sometimes you just have to believe that there are still a few men who are as good as their word." His tongue poked out between the stitches in a manner that betrayed his anxiety.

The frown on Trowa's face didn't right itself, despite the earnestness in Duo's plea. He grudgingly acquiesced as much as he would ever be willing to on the matter by saying, "I will change my mind when I witness something that earns such a sentiment from me." He sent a sharp glare over Duo's shoulder to where Heero still lingered on the stone slab they had laid him on. "I've seen nothing to settle it yet."

Duo was really starting to grow weary of this repeated argument with Trowa, especially since they always ended up going around in circles with it. "You let bias clout your judgment of all this," Duo accused, not about to let Trowa have the last word. "For the first time in your life, just trust me a little, alright?" He then stormed away from Trowa, falling into step with Heero, who was awkwardly trying to get used to using his legs again. As if to spite Trowa, Duo offered Heero a steadying hand as they made their way from the craggy enchanting circle.

Trowa was quick to turn his attentions elsewhere when he saw what Duo was doing. He refused to acknowledge any of the motivations Duo had regarding the human that were not wholly self-serving, for it that sort of folly that had led stronger men astray. "No, Duo," Trowa muttered, squinting into the setting sun as he and Heavypaw led the way back to the main path, "it is you whose judgment seems to have been clouted."

TBC!


	7. Waning Stars

**Title: **_**The Forsaken**_**  
Author:** Link Worshiper  
**Pairings:** 1=2, maybe some others if I feel like it  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Stuff:** Fantasy AU, fluff, sap, language, adventure, WoW nerdiness  
**Disclaimer:** I own Gundam Wing action figures? Warcraft and its lore belongs to Blizzard Entertainment. Both things are being played with out of fangirl love.

Thanks to danse and Natea for the once over. Despite the fact this is part of Natea's birthday present, I still needed her to fill me in on the Alliance history they don't teach us on Horde, so thanks for that also =P

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Part VII  
Waning Starlight 

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Far across the ocean, on the edge of the continent of Kalimdor, was the rainy island of Theramore. Protected by jagged rocks in the surrounding bay and the perilous marshlands that separated it from the mainland, Theramore was a refuge for those who had fled Lordaeron when the threat of the Lich King's Scourge had begun to manifest, and it was there that Relena Proudmoore had established a new home for the Alliance far away from his grasp. Theramore was by no means as glorious as the old kingdom of Lordaeron had been, but it was thankfully still thriving, despite all odds, and those that lived there all did their part to revitalize the life they had left behind.

Today, the first day of the month, Relena and her assembly of advisers were hosting audiences with any citizens who wished to speak candidly with their leaders about their needs and concerns. It was an old royal tradition the Kushrenadas of Lordaeron had upheld when they had ruled their eastern homelands, and Relena recalled sitting in on many such audiences with fondness. She had been particular friends with Prince Treize Kushrenada before his fall from grace, and she knew she mostly kept such traditions in place in honour of the king she once thought he might have been.

Unfortunately, Relena was in low spirits that day, perhaps because of some troubling news she had heard from Stormwind about one of the royal guilds disappearing, and it left her with little patience for listening to the grievances of others. She sorely wished that her chief advisor, the high priest, Quatre, had been there, and then got to wondering where he might have gone.

"M'lady, what do you think?"

Relena startled from her thoughts, unwillfully returning to the moment at hand. A nobleman she recognized as one of Theramore's richest merchants stood before her, his entire demeanor that of one who was awaiting an answer. She shook her head, desperately hoping to recall something of what he had said, but found the only thing she could remember was the question of Quatre's whereabouts. Smoothing her white and lavender robes, she cleared her throat and congenially asked him to repeat himself.

The merchant seemed vaguely annoyed but at least had the sense to know his place. "About the trade routes," he intoned sharply. "I think we should establish more permanent bases between here and Ashenvale. It would increase our ability to shuttle goods to Astranaar. As it stands, our presence in Kalimdor is hardly-"

Suddenly, everything the merchant had been prattling on about returned to Relena and she straightened in an effort to look more imposing, despite her small stature. "Absolutely not," she declared before the merchant had a chance to finish. "Such a foolish thing would only do to upset the Horde settlements in the Barrens and Durotar. I will not allow this city-state to fall victim to the same pettiness that infects Stormwind." Her opinion on the matter was perhaps unpopular, but it was firm.

The merchant scowled, clearly not pleased with being denied his request. Contemptuously, he spat, "You would change your mind when orcs overrun and destroy us as they did Stormwind all those years ago. They are brutal animals that must be exterminated if we are to maintain our way of life." Then he turned abruptly on his heel and left for the door, pushing his way the murmuring crowd gathered in the audience chamber.

"Maybe our way of life is wrong!" Relena called after him angrily even though he was far from hearing her. She covered half her face with a dainty hand and slumped into the oversized throne with another frustrated sigh. It was this exhausted action that gave one of Relena's advisers the cue to step forward and announce that the audiences were over for the day. A low grumble rose from those who had not had the chance to speak yet, but they all obeyed the order to leave nonetheless. Soon, the audience chamber was thankfully quiet and empty, and Relena let out a much more relieved breath of air.

The adviser who had spoken for Relena was a purple-haired paladin by the name of Lucretzia Noin, and was another one of Relena's main confidants. Garbed in silver armour and a navy cloak, she stood straightly beside Relena's chair and spoke with the balanced air of one who had trained for the Order of the Silver Hand. "Too much for you to handle today, m'lady?" she asked.

"I guess I never appreciated how much I relied on Quatre's presence for such things," Relena admitted, glancing over at her friend. "After cousin Milliardo's news from Stormwind about the loss of his prized guild of rogues, I have found myself rather distracted."

A wry grin twisted Noin's face as she commented, "Ah, is that not the guild that Quatre's good friend belongs to? Oh, what was his name...?"

"Heero," Relena interjected automatically.

"Mm, how could I forget?" Noin continued smoothly, not bothering to mask the teasing in her voice anymore. "You are so very fond of him...."

"Lucretzia, please! I barely know him!" Relena exclaimed, her face burning so red, it clashed violently with her dark blond hair and lavender cloak. Though she knew Noin didn't mean anything by what she had said, it was still embarrassing all the same to have any attention drawn to the eyes she had for Quatre's best friend. She had only briefly met him a few times, and long ago at that, but there had been something about him that struck her. She supposed it was that mysterious air he seemed to exude so naturally; in the very least, it made her curious to know more about him. Frankly, however, it was the knowledge that someone who was reputed to be as adept a fighter as he was had gone missing that distressed her the most, and it left her wondering what mischief was afoot.

"Anyway, I think I'll retire to my study for the afternoon," Relena announced, pointedly ignoring the way Noin was smirking at her. She pushed herself out of the ridiculously large throne tradition insisted upon for whenever she was receiving an audience and started for the private staircase that led to her personal quarters at the top of the tower. She was actually quite eager to spend some time alone with her books; it was so rare that she was able to catch a moment to herself that she reveled deeply in them whenever they came along. If she could have it her own way, she would have stayed lost in the libraries at Dalaran her whole life.

She was nearly to the top of the stairs when a commotion from outside sent her scurrying back down a few steps to the window she had just passed. Peering through the thick glass, her shoulders sagged at this newest disruption, which, though not entirely unwelcome, certainly had chosen an ill time to manifest. Tapping her foot anxiously for a few moments, she closed her eyes, channeling the magical energies she commanded as a mage, and then conjured a portal to teleport herself instantaneously from the castle keep to the front gate.

In a burst of purple and green, Relena popped out at the main gate, where soldiers and townsfolk alike were hassling the pair of visitors that was being held up on the main bridge. The two outsiders, a pair of orcs - no one less than the Warchief Thrall and his right hand commander - had expected trouble on their errand today, and patiently waited for Relena to arrive and speak on their behalf. Or rather, Warchief Thrall waited patiently for his friend; Wufei Hellscream, on the other hand, was another matter altogether.

"How _dare_ you summon your entire army against only two of us?" Wufei snarled, a thick vein pulsating on his forehead. Though he still possessed the heavy-set features common in their race, Wufei was smaller and lither than most orcs, and his skin was the unnatural red hue of the orcs that had once been tainted by fel magics. His black hair was pulled into a tight ponytail behind his head, and his scowling lips were curled wide by the large pair of tusks that extended from his lower set of teeth. But the son of a great orc hero, Wufei made up for his unnatural appearances with combat skills that ranked him as one of the greatest warriors of Orgrimmar and a temper to match. Still aggrieved by the Alliance soldiers, he continued, "I dare you to lay a hand on either of us, pithy human! I will take down this entire lot of cowards myself!"

Thrall was holding his hand out, barring Wufei from making any advances, his face the very picture of embarrassment as Relena approached. "I am sorry for coming unannounced," Thrall began, his voice more deep and gravelly than any human's could ever hope to be. "But some of my scouts returned to me heralding troubling news and I could not wait to speak of it. I think it is something that concerns all of us." His face was grim, as was usually his way, but there was something about the way the warchief carried himself that was almost regal despite his imposing appearance.

Relena knew that her afternoon of reading would have to wait if Thrall would personally come all the way from Durotar to tell her such things. She abruptly ordered the soldiers to fall back and the townsfolk to return to their daily errands before beckoning Thrall and Wufei to follow her to the city's main keep. Walking next to Thrall, who was at least twice her size and far more girthed than any human, was a somewhat humbling experience, but her familiarity with the orc kept her from feeling any fear. They had grown to share an alliance of sorts, and had helped each other out of various situations not only for the common good, but because of the depth of their friendship. Rather, it was the presence of Wufei Hellscream that added a bit of uncertainty to Relena's gait that day: she had met him once or twice, but the clarity with which he detested humans was enough of a reminder as to why the Horde and the Alliance still had a long way to go before they could ever truly be allies. It was only Thrall's trust in him that she allowed him to enter Theramore at all.

She led them to her private study and closed the door, knowing that she could easily teleport out of harm's way should Wufei do something that made her feel uncomfortable. Settling down at her desk, she invited the two orcs to sit on nearby chairs, but they both refused, preferring to stand like proud warriors. Not wasting any more time with pleasantries, she quickly cut down to business: "So what is this news you bring me, friend?" she asked, addressing Thrall.

Thrall let out a low grunt, tossing his head. "I am almost certain that a dangerous relic that was once in the possession of the Horde has been stolen," he announced without any fanfare. He stroked one of the thick braids in his long, black beard, frowning at the very suggestion of it. "It is not an easy thing to do - I saw to the division and distribution of this relic amongst the leaders of the Horde myself - but each and every piece has vanished from under our noses. I just received word this morning that the fragment I had entrusted to Lady Catalonia has been taken." Another low grunt escaped Thrall's lips as he added, "This is coming mere days after the report that the piece belonging to Silvermoon disappeared."

Relena pursed her lips, folding her hands tightly on her lap. "And I shall assume that you have also lost pieces of this relic that were stored in Thunderbluff, Orgrimmar and Sen'jin?" she queried. "How did this not trigger any warning bells earlier?"

Surprisingly, it was Wufei who interjected next: "That is exactly what I said!" he snapped testily. Shooting Relena a sharp glare, he snorted derisively at her, "It is a sad day when even a human - a _female_ no less - can show more sense than the lord of the mighty Horde."

Thrall growled menacingly at Wufei, and Relena tried her best to remain cordial. By means of explanation, Thrall said, "When the one held in Orgrimmar vanished, I bade the blood elves and the Forsaken to hide their pieces of this evil artifact more dutifully. But that they, too, are now gone, I can only imagine it is the work of scheming thieves, and clever ones at that."

Flexing her hands, Relena lifted a curled finger to her chin, pondering the matter further. Such a calculated series of burglaries seemed like it could only be the work of a highly skilled pack of rogues, which instantly reminded her of the missing Stormwind guild. She wasn't sure if this was something she should divulge to Thrall just yet, especially with Wufei there, but it was definitely worth keeping track of. In lieu of that information, she instead said, "What gives you cause to bring this to me only now?"

"Even with only four of the five pieces, the sigil is useless," Thrall explained. "The matter was not dire until I heard the final fragment was taken."

"And what will happen if this sigil is reforged?" Relena was keen to ask.

"I fear it already has been," said Thrall morosely. "If that is so, then a great dreadlord of the Burning Legion has found some unfortunate soul to feed on until it can regain its full power.

"And then?" she pressed, already fairly certain of where this tale was heading.

Thrall never got a chance to respond, because it was then that Wufei interjected again. "We will be mere pebbles underfoot as it trounces across Azeroth, searching for a way to steal the Lich King's power!" he cried, clenching his fists tightly. "The fool that besot this upon us should be unmanned - and the one bearing the sigil, dispatched before he unwittingly sends us all to our end!"

Relena paled, finding the situation all too similar to the one that had brought Treize to his end, suddenly fearing what Heero's involvement in all this might be. She wished she could come up with an immediate solution, but she knew it was something she would have to mull over. Unfortunately, she realized, time wasn't exactly a luxury anyone could bear too afford.

So, as she sat there struggling with the weight of all these things, it was almost fortunate when the study door burst open and Quatre came stumbling in, frazzled. He was babbling about needing her mage powers for some important task or other, so she quickly excused herself to help him. Her head pounded at this sudden assault of dark knowledge, wondering what there was to be done. She only wished she knew more.

Before it was too late.

++++

A sudden Arathi rainstorm sent Heero, Duo, Trowa and Heavypaw scattering for shelter beneath a large outcropping of rock. The sun, though hidden behind the horizon, still emanated a brilliant orange glow that bled out from behind the gray clouds, though it hardly did much for illumination in the torrential downpour. Figuring they might be stuck there for a while yet, Duo took it upon himself to conjure a small campfire they could warm themselves by while they waited out the worst of the storm. The crackling of magical embers whispered beneath the pelt of the rain, only able to thrive because of Duo's mana in the dampness.

Trowa stared blankly at the fire for a few moments as if he were thinking intently. He kept drumming his fingers against his satchel as if he were impatiently waiting for something, though there was something in his demeanor that suggested it wasn't the passing of the rain. Heavypaw lay nearby, his tail idly flicking back and forth in a hapless way that completely countered the demeanor of his master, which only seemed to irritate Trowa further. At last, he abruptly stood as best he could underneath the rock outcropping, announcing plainly, "I'm going to find something to eat." He shouldered his bow as if to make his statement more definite.

"You'll drown out there," said Duo, who was lounging against the craggy wall where the overhanging boulder met the hillside. Warm and cold made no difference to him, but water never agreed with him well.

Trowa just stared back at Duo, offering him a look that seemed to crackle with a fire of its own. "Then it is fortunate I am already soaked," he intoned dismissively. Then, with a flourish of his cloak, he vanished into the rain like some kind of apparition with Heavypaw at his heels.

Heero, who was huddled as close to the fire as he could get, surreptitiously tracked Trowa's movements until he had gone and then turned his attention back to the flame, albeit with the same contemplative air Trowa had possessed earlier. At length, he lifted his chin and asked Duo, "Is he always like that, or is it a show for the likes of me?" His tone sounded a little bitter, like he didn't appreciate Trowa's unnecessary disdain.

Duo cocked his head, clearly not expecting to be asked such a question. "A little of both, perhaps," he answered congenially. He eyed Heero from behind his ratty bangs, curious: sometimes the things Heero said and did unearthed sentiments that Duo had been certain he'd left behind in life.

Heero grit his teeth, obviously more frustrated by Trowa's demeanor than he'd previously let on. "Faction ties or not, we are venturing together; he has no right to belittle me so," he complained more to the fire than to Duo, hardly taking notice of Asahi, who had come chittering across the floor to comfort Heero with a twitter of his antennae.

"He is the prince of a proud and wrecked race. You can't expect much," Duo said with a shrug, trying hard to make it sound like he was indifferent to the matter, though truth be told, it had been bothering him just as much. He wondered if things might have been playing out differently without Trowa's interference. Things certainly would have felt a lot more even keel between them, Duo thought; Trowa's constant scrutiny could be just as nerve-wracking to Duo as it surely was to Heero.

But Duo's reasoning didn't seem to be enough of a reason to settle Heero's unease. "Yes, but even _you_ at least pretend to tolerate me," Heero pointed out morosely. He leaned a cheek into his hand, glancing down at Asahi, who was still trying hard to get Heero's undivided attention. "Tell me true," he continued, still refusing to meet Duo's eyes, even as he addressed him. "Were it not for this demon's curse, would you have killed me that day I came back into your sight?"

The question caught Duo off guard, and he stiffened, hoping that Heero wouldn't catch his sudden wariness. "It is hard to say," Duo said, his hands spread flat across the ground on either side of him. "As it is, you are of more use to me alive than dead. A champion of the Alliance - do not think your reputation has not proceeded you." He shrugged again, the yellowy light in his eye sockets flickering mysteriously as he added, "I knew who you were the moment I caught you slinking around the Sepulcher that first time. Hearing you speak your own name only confirmed it." His lips curled up into a wry smile that distorted his already skewed face even more. "So, no," he drawled, "I think I might have found an excuse to make _some_ kind of use for you regardless."

"I suppose that is a comfort," Heero groused tightly, though it was hard to tell if he really thought so. His eyes darted across the floor, eventually settling upon Asahi's erratic scuttling beside his boot. "It's a wonder I even lived to see beyond Tarren Mill; for a while, I was beginning to think that I was already dead."

"It must have just been another trick of the demon while you were under his sleeping enchantment," Duo said, his speech returning to its usual pace now that the topic had started to steer back into more neutral territory.

At last, Heero looked up, meeting Duo's empty eyes with an expression of shock. "I was asleep all that time? And you carried me here?" he wondered aloud, clearly not sure he had heard correctly. "Then it really is a wonder I am alive; I would swear that under such circumstances, you'd have left me to die."

Insulted at such an accusation, Duo crossed his arms and turned his nose upwards. "I am not completely without honour, you know. My heart once beat as yours does," he said, offended. Then he bore his ghastly stare straight through Heero's heart: "When I kill you, you will know it, for I will raise my blade to your face and cut your throat while you are watching, understand?"

Once again, his tone was serious, but Heero wasn't sure he could take comfort in his words this time. Heero quickly dropped his attention back to Asahi, who was ignorant of all the strange energy crackling between them. Despite Duo's claim that he still reserved certain qualities he'd maintained in life, Heero wondered how much death had really changed the warlock. He shifted uncomfortably, not sure what to think about in order to settle his racing nerves.

"If you are tired, sleep some more - I won't hurt you," Duo said after watching Heero grow more restless with each passing moment. "You may think me a monster, but take solace in the knowledge that the monster that resides within _you_ is a far more fearsome beast." He chuckled darkly and folded his hands behind his head as he leaned back against the rock face. "It is perhaps even ironic to note that what plagues you is also what has saved you."

Heero frowned at the fire as he rolled Duo's words around in his head, contemplating them fiercely. Such words did not bode well with his conscience or his duty to the Alliance. But more puzzling, still, was Duo's intent with him; he found the notion of it just as troublesome as the idea that the demon sigil had transformed him into something sinister. His natural inclination was to ask Duo directly, but he had a suspicion that the mysterious warlock would only clam up and avoid telling him anything further.

Duo, meanwhile, had found entertainment in watching Heero in a way that was almost voyeuristic. "You wear your thoughts on your face, human," he said, intrigued by the despair ingrained into Heero's features. "Share them with me."

Heero jolted like he meant to turn his eyes back towards Duo, but he forcibly kept them focused on the embers, his stern brow knit. He frowned, not keen to explain his anguish, and deliberated over whether or not he should acknowledge Duo's command at all. At last, he relented and sighed, "For the life of me, I cannot discern what my place is in all this." Admitting the fact aloud did not do much to alleviate his troubled thoughts.

The amusement faded from Duo's features as quickly as it had arrived. He readjusted his position, drawing his knees up to rest his forearms across them as he suddenly took interest in the twitching of Asahi's antennae. The question reeked similarly to the comments about destiny Trowa had left him with as they were leaving Hillsbard, and he found such grandeur did not sit well with him. When he answered, Duo spoke slowly and cautiously, as if he were afraid he might slip up and reveal something he did not intend to. "In life, I thought I had been called to do a lot of things - things that were supposed to serve a higher purpose - things that were supposed make a difference," he said, all the while fiddling with a tassel on his sash. "But my failure in all of them left me with the realization that nothing I could ever do would change the course of anything. I still lost the ones I wanted to protect, still lost my home... still died. And everything is still as it was all those years ago." He grit his crooked teeth and balled his mismatched fists in frustration as he bowed his head.

During this admission, Heero had found his eyes drawn back to Duo, his mouth parted in awe at what Duo had just shared. Though it hadn't been much, that resounding human quality he'd noted earlier had been latent in Duo's words, and he found himself oddly moved by it. He almost dared not speak, afraid he might take away from the poignancy of Duo's story.

"Sometimes, all I want," Duo eventually murmured, "is to be home again."

The air Heero was holding in his lungs was becoming stale, but he dared not let it out, even as he gasped softly, "Where is home?" He hardly dared to breathe when he spoke.

"Somewhere," Duo answered, his scratchy voice muffled by the folds of his robes as he looked away. "I don't know."

And for the first time since they'd met, Heero felt like he understood.

++++

Suffice to say, Trowa's day had not been going well at all.

Their trip to Arathi had been arduous enough, between carrying Heero's unconscious body to one of the summoning circles and then performing the Tauren ritual to speak with the Earthmother and beg for her help. He had nearly strangled Duo when the ritual nearly went awry, even though it wasn't exactly Duo's fault that there was more slumbering beneath the ground than they had assumed. Duo's Tauren chant had somehow managed to also awaken a titan princess that had been imprisoned by the magic of the enchanted stone circles, and her unexpected rampage had thrown Trowa and Duo into a battle they weren't entirely prepared for. Though they managed to fell her, they were so fatigued from the skirmish that it was an hour before Duo had the strength to attempt the ritual again.

Then, if that had not been enough, he was starving and had yet to find anything worth hunting in the downpour, plus the fact that he still had not heard from Quatre, the thought of which only served to make his need for something arcane worsen. Now that he was alone, Trowa was seriously considering a chat with the priest, if only to at least sate himself with the knowledge that something magical would soon be coming his way, for he was not sure how much longer he could stand without anything to calm his need. It made him sorely wish he could be more like Duo, who only required a rare drink of blood every now and again.

Rummaging through the personal pouch he carried, Trowa soon unearthed the owl charm he had used to contact Quatre the first time. He didn't care what sort of promises they had made before; he needed that magical energy immediately. Rubbing his finger across the silver owl, there was a flash of aquamarine energy, and then the hovering light of the communication portal. Inside the glowing window, Quatre looked surprised, though it was uncertain whether that was due to the unexpected communication, or simply seeing Trowa's face once more.

"Your L-Lordship," the priest stammered, wringing his hands beneath the huge, white sleeves of his robe. "I was under the impression I had a little more time before I would hear from you."

Trowa's hand cut through the rain as he flicked it nonchalantly and said, "My misery trumps all else. I need you to help me, and I need for it to be right now." For once, his words were actually in line with how he felt: standing there in the rain, dripping wet, cold and hungry for both food and magic, he didn't even have the wherewithal to make a threat against Heero's wellbeing. Were it not for his long, elfin ears and glowing, green eyes, he might have actually been mistaken for a common human in such a humbled state. Shivering, he sneezed, immediately embarrassed by it.

Meanwhile, Quatre, who was safe and warm in one of Lady Relena's many libraries, was feeling somewhat conflicted. Here he was, at the mercy of a hundred other tasks, when the presumptuous blood elf had interrupted him, demanding his assistance. Quatre's natural instinct was, of course, to help Trowa as best he could, but there was still a part of him that felt a little bitter towards the elf for acting as he had. He thought that it would be Trowa's just desserts to suffer until the agreed upon delivery for the magical item he had yet to enchant, but it was hard for him to go against his nature and deny him the help, even if it was what the Sunbender prince probably deserved.

Sighing, Quatre sat down in a nearby chair, still eyeing the rain-soaked Trowa through the portal. Compromising with himself, he said to the elf, "If you could perhaps grace me with a more kindly entreaty, then I shall do my best to see to your request."

Never one to take orders, Trowa pursed his lips as he forced himself to comply. "It would honour me greatly if you would see to my aid," he groused, looking away. He spoke so low, his words almost were lost beneath the shatter of the falling rain. "Please... anar'alah belore," he murmured desperately, unsure how much longer he could last.

It was that almost inaudible please that struck Quatre the most, moved by Trowa's Thalassian reference to the sun. "Sinu a'manore," he answered reverently. He paused for a moment, glancing at the nearby table and picking up the first object he found lying there, which happened to be an unused quill. Then, rising gracefully, he addressed the waning Trowa: "I'll be but a moment. Please wait."

Trowa's shoulders heaved as he allowed a tiny, grateful smile to tug at his otherwise grim lips. Then, without warning, he suddenly collapsed out of the portal's view, dropping to the ground as if his very soul had been drained from his body.

++++

[last]  
**TBC!!**

++++ 


	8. Light as a Feather

**Title: **_**The Forsaken**_

**Author: **Link Worshiper

**Pairings:** 1=2, maybe some others if I feel like it

**Rating: **PG-13

**Stuff:** Fantasy AU, fluff, sap, language, adventure, WoW nerdiness

**Disclaimer:** I own Gundam Wing action figures? Warcraft and its lore belongs to Blizzard Entertainment. Both things are being played with out of fangirl love.

Thanks to danse and Natea for the once over. Despite the fact this is part of Natea's birthday present, I still needed her to fill me in on the Alliance history they don't teach us on Horde, so thanks for that also =P

-

_Part VIII_

_Light as a Feather_

-

"I do hope my interruption was not at an inconvenience," Quatre was saying as he dragged Relena away from her study, "but I panicked, and I need your help."

"Where are we going?" Relena asked, more than happy to help Quatre if it meant buying her some time to think about the things Thrall and Wufei had told her.

"This way," said Quatre, leading her back towards the library where he had been speaking with Trowa. He had been so startled when he saw the blood elf prince literally wilt right before his eyes that he had abandoned everything almost immediately to seek out Relena. She was one of the most powerful mages in Azeroth; surely she would know a way to help him get to Trowa quickly.

Their robes swished around their legs as they shuffled onwards, and before long, Quatre was ushering Relena into the library, where the communication portal still lingered in the middle of the room, glowing with the hazy image of nothing more than sheeting rain. She lifted a curious finger at it, wandering closer to investigate while Quatre explained what had happened.

"I had originally been planning to make something very powerful in hopes he wouldn't bother me for a while, but he surprised me today," Quatre said, stooping to pick up the feather he'd been in the middle of enchanting when Trowa had passed out. "He sounded desperate, but while I was throwing together a more last minute solution, he just… toppled." He made a cascading motion with his hands to illustrate. "I guess he needed it far more than I imagined."

Relena nodded, a hand curled beneath her chin as she tried to think of a solution. "I don't know where he is, so I'm not sure I can create a portal to his side," she mused aloud, "but maybe we can do something more makeshift?" She glanced back at Quatre, who was twirling the quill around his fingers nervously. "What is it exactly that you want to do?"

He abruptly stopped, clenching the feather tightly as he said, "By the Light, at no end do I want to end up anywhere near the likes of _that_" – he gestured towards the communication portal with a nod of his head – "but I still need to help him."

Furrowing her brow, Relena stared at her friend quixotically. She didn't understand how a person could want to both help and deride a person at the same time, but she supposed it wasn't her place to judge. "I'll leave you to your reasons," she said with a shrug, stepping towards the portal. "Though perhaps you will want to finish that spell before I open a pathway between here and there."

Quatre nodded and turned to do just that, though he couldn't help but crumple the quill into a clenched fist as he distractedly started to murmur an incantation that would give the feather holy revival powers. The plain writing implement began to shimmer gold and white as it absorbed the magic, transforming the everyday item into a trinket that any careful adventurer would do to keep in his pocket should he require a healing aid. Finished, Quatre faced Relena again, holding the feather out wordlessly.

"I'm going to try and convert this portal of yours into one that will let us pass the quill through," Relena explained, already rummaging through her robes for the rune she used to manipulate her transportation magic. "I've never tried to do something like this before, though, so I have no idea if it will work." She tried to offer Quatre a reassuring smile as she took the feather in one hand and held her rune-inscribed stone in the other. Shoving both objects into the glowing portal, she started to chant, focusing all her will into the experimental spell that it might be successful.

"Please work," Quatre muttered under his breath, wringing the huge, white sleeves of his robe. "He's our only clue to finding Heero."

Overhearing what Quatre had said, Relena nearly broke her concentration at the startling bit of news. Luckily, she was able to instead use it as further incentive to assert the triumph of this spell, and soon found it was beginning to work. With a flash of purple and green, her hands began to sink into the portal's image, and soon, were becoming damp with the rainwater splattering down on the other end. Giving the feather a wave, it glowed and poured its reviving light over Trowa's comatose body before she let go of it and drew her hands back into the library. Then she gave Quatre a sharp look and said flatly, "You didn't tell me _everything_, it would seem."

Quatre's face was fraught, obviously wracked with guilt. "I didn't mean it that way," he insisted, flapping his sleeves frantically. "I just… well… I didn't think that it was something that would concern you, that's all." He knew Relena fancied Heero, but he'd always written that off as a frivolous interest, even though she had been carrying a torch for him since her student days in Dalaran. If he hadn't known that their lack of real interaction there had been at the expense of Heero's fascination with someone else – another boy, to be exact – he might have even facilitated her a bit, but that would have only been giving her even more false hopes.

Meanwhile, Relena reached up to run her fingers along the twin braids that wound around her head, a nervous habit she'd picked up ever since becoming the ruler of her own city-state. "Quatre," she said, her voice soft but firm, "just down the hall is the orc chief of the Horde, who has come to us because he is concerned about a cursed amulet that was stolen from his ranks; my cousin's prize guild of thieves is missing, and you think that Heero's whereabouts are of no consequence to me?" She dropped her hands and let them hang limply at her sides as she added a bit more frantically, "You know he is the leader of that very guild, and I refuse to believe they are unrelated."

Conceding that Relena did have a fair point, Quatre sighed an apology. "He said he and his traveling companion had made some sort of pact with Heero," Quatre went on to inform her, recalling the first conversation he had with Trowa. "They're keeping him their hostage and are clearly traveling somewhere, as they seemed to be in a glade before this rain-soaked plane. But to where they are going, I have not a whit." He shrugged helplessly, wishing there was more he could say.

Relena frowned, not sure what to make of this new revelation. She didn't have much more time to consider it, though, for behind her, there was a brilliant flash of gold within the stormy portal, and then the clink of rustling chain mail. Both Quatre and Relena whirled towards the portal, staring almost idiotically at it as the proud figure of Trowa Sunbender rose to fill its scope. He still looked like a drowned rat, but there was definitely something more confident and sure about him that extended beyond his royal blood, clearly a byproduct of Quatre's magic. It was then that Quatre realized what an imposing creature the elf truly was, and wondered if he had really done well to revitalize him. He silently thanked Elune that Trowa was at least a kind of ally for the time being, shuddering to think what sort of enemy he would make.

"I thank you, priest," Trowa said airily, the best impression of gratitude that he could muster, though it wasn't very good. "You can rest assured that I will not murder your sneaky friend in the night with skills like yours."

Quatre wasn't sure such a promise comforted him very much, but he muscled a strained grin nevertheless. "Then can I count on you to tell me what it is you are seeking in Azeroth?" he asked, deciding that there was no sense in playing word games with Trowa. "You cannot hope to persuade me that you are venturing forth without cause."

Trowa was only slightly moved to tell Quatre the whole of it, despite what he had promised before. Vaguely, he replied, "Not seeking, but quelling."

Both Quatre and Relena tensed at these words, sensing the correlation between the news borne by Thrall and Trowa's clue, scant as it was. Subtly, Quatre gripped Relena's wrist, a silent entreaty not to alert Trowa to the fact that what he had said meant something to either of them, and she pursed her lips accordingly.

It was then that Trowa cast a glance in Relena's direction, and he arched his eyebrows with amusement at the sight of her. "Ah, the Lady Proudmoore," he greeted her, though his voice was still twanged with a hint of dissonance. "Are you here to weasel out some sort of negotiation for our rogue friend? I wouldn't count on it so easily…."

"Your secrecy is unbecoming, fair prince," Relena tartly retorted.

"As is your diplomacy," said Trowa, his eyes narrowed. "You would do well to know that under such circumstances, your friend's life rests in his ability to keep his word."

Quatre chose that moment to ask an all-important question: "And what, exactly, is it that Heero has promised you?"

There was a pause as Trowa mulled over an answer. Then, his lips curled up into an almost dastardly smile as he said, "To betray the Alliance."

-

Trowa trekked back through the rain to the dry encampment under the rock ledge, where he'd left Duo and Heero. Heero had curled up near the fire and was asleep, while Duo still huddled in the same place he'd been when Trowa had left. He was staring contemplatively at Heero's balled up form as it rose and fell with his every breath. He barely even seemed to notice Trowa's return.

"Put out that fire," Trowa announced abruptly, only vaguely concerned by Duo's uncharacteristic silence. "I saw some Allies while I was mucking about. We need to move before they find us." He neatly avoided detailing that the Allies in question were far away in Theramore, but it wasn't something he probably could have explained well, even if he wanted to.

A low growl rumbled in the back of Duo's throat at Trowa's words, indicating that he wasn't as dazed as he initially appeared. It was hard to tell if he was more annoyed at Trowa for compromising their position or if he was just loath to move so suddenly. Warily, he got to his feet and nudged Heero with his toe as he walked towards the fire, which he then smothered with his cloak before tossing it back over his shoulders.

Heero blearily opened his eyes, confused by the midnight interruption. He rubbed his eyes and sat up, frowning at the sight of Trowa and Duo hastily packing up their bags. Though he'd been sleeping under the Epyon demon's power for some time, he hadn't had any real rest in what seemed like an eternity, and he was absolutely shattered. "Where are we going?" he wanted to know.

"Onwards," sighed Duo, who sounded very weary, despite the fact that the Forsaken had no need for sleep. He kicked the provisions pack towards Heero and added, "I'm sorry."

Heero swallowed the rest of his discontent and shouldered the leather satchel without a word. He'd been trained in survival skills since a young age and had managed to endure far less savoury situations than this. Complaining wouldn't change things, so he bit his tongue and followed his keepers back into the rainstorm.

It was pitch black in Arathi as they hustled across the stony terrain, careful not to slip on the slick rock beneath their feet as they headed south towards the wetlands. It was ironic that Trowa had moved them out to escape Allies by rushing them into enemy territory. The wetlands weren't overly populated, but what few settlements existed there were very prominently Alliance affiliated. It was doubtful that the tricks that had worked to move Heero through the Horde villages would have the same effect if they tried it on any Allies.

"I can tell you right now, I'm sick of this damned rain," Duo muttered as a fierce lightning bolt crackled overhead, illuminating the area for a scant moment. They had to be careful as they continued: there were ogres living near the border, and they were hostile towards everything.

"Don't expect it to let up anytime soon," said Trowa, obviously happy to put a further damper on Duo's disposition.

Heero kept his personal thoughts to himself as they continued, privately glad that they would soon be heading for more familiar territory. Despite what Duo and Trowa seemed to suspect, he had no plans to try escaping from them with the demonic curse still plaguing him. He even supposed it was more beneficial relying on the two of them as opposed to a fellow Ally, who was likely to send word to King Milliardo about the whole thing. Truth be told, the more Heero thought about it, the less he liked the idea of Milliardo knowing anything at all. Better the Stormwind monarch think him dead until he was certain the demon's power was silenced. He wondered if that was considered betrayal.

Thunder boomed loud in their ears, rolling across the sky like the drums of the Tauren. Something about its grandeur instilled a quicker pace in the trio as they hurried onwards, though wet as they were, it wouldn't have done them much good to find shelter at that point. Another flicker of lightning came, almost immediately followed by the rumbling of thunder, and the rain started to hiss down upon them even harder. The pattern continued, slowly becoming more and more intense with each repetition, almost as if the very sky was trying to spite them. The thunderclaps became more and more intense, almost as if they were sounding over top one another. Even the ground seemed to rumble underfoot as the surrounding mountains started to funnel the land into a narrow pass.

Suddenly, there was a great roar that rose up above the tumultuous storm, and the trio skittered to a stop, realizing that the shaking earth and echoing thunder wasn't a trick of the sky. In a flash of lightning, they saw, looming before them, a great Boulderfist ogre brandishing a spiked club at them. It had a mighty girth and an ugly face that looked as if it was a great mass of dough that had been beaten into shape with a tree branch. It was then that they realized that they had strayed a bit too close to the Boulderfist caves, though it seemed a hazard that anyone looking to cross the Thandol Span would have to overcome.

They stood there hesitantly, all three staring back at the enraged ogre as if they had no idea what they ought to do. But when the ogre let out another yell, rallying more of the brutes to come crawling out of the caves, Trowa simply growled, "Run."

At the sight of more warriors and even some of the double-headed shamans of the Boulderfist clan, neither Heero nor Duo needed a second urging. All three of them broke into a sprint with Heavypaw blazing ahead towards the great canyon that separated the highlands from the low wetlands of Khaz Modan. The Thandol Span, once a mighty dwarven bridge that connected the two landmasses, now lay in ruins and had been replaced with only a meager, wooden footbridge to act in its stead. It was shaky and unreliable, and all of them prayed that the storm hadn't managed to destroy their only escape with the ogres hot on their heels.

"Just keep going! Don't even stop!" Trowa shouted, urging them onwards as the wooden bridge came into view, swinging perilously over the gorge. Heavypaw leapt forward, landing on the first few planks of the bridge with a nerve-wracking creak as Trowa charged on not far behind.

Duo, however, did stop, long enough to summon his blue genie companion from the nether. He bade it to try and slow the oncoming ogres as he and Heero made for the bridge as well, and it obeyed with an exaggerated bow before executing the command. The voidwalker brandished its fearsome talons and soon set to the task of ripping into the first ogre it met, while Heero and Duo used the time they had been bought to distance themselves even further from the Boulderfist threat.

Soon Heero and Duo were on the bridge as well, though the weight of their entire group only did to make the rickety passageway swing more violently in the wind. Heero had never been afraid of heights, and in the past, had launched himself off many a precarious ledge, but this was entirely different: once glance over the side of the bridge sent a disconcerting swallow down his throat, and he tried not to think about whether or not his death would be worse if he smacked the water or bashed his skull on the rocks when he fell.

Meanwhile, Heavypaw and Trowa had managed to get safely to the other side, while the other two were still about halfway across the bridge. The elf was shouting back at his two companions, but his words were drowned in the howling gales, and they missed Trowa's warning that the voidwalker had been defeated by the ogres, who were now charging after them once more. In fact, it wasn't until the bridge suddenly lurched with the weight of the first ogre that either Heero or Duo even glanced behind them, and the realization that their time was starting to run dangerously thin struck them more savagely than even the pelting rain.

When two more ogres clambered onto the narrow bridge, the urge to react to the situation filled both of them, though both thought to do so in completely different ways. While Duo, who was ahead of Heero, thought to kick in and run as fast as he could towards Trowa, Heero resolutely planted his feet and turned around, ready to hold his ground even though the only weapon he carried was a dagger Duo had stolen from the Syndicate thieves earlier. He was still afraid of falling, but he knew if he didn't get those ogres off the bridge soon, there was no way both of them would be able to make it across before the whole thing snapped beneath them.

Heero's plan, though noble, was not very well thought out, and was over before he even had a chance to swing his blade once. With the weight of just one more ogre on the Arathi side of the bridge came the unsettling groan of straining rope as the bridge's lashings started to give way. Heero could hear Trowa screaming insults and Duo yelling unhelpful advice from somewhere behind him, but he only had the sense to take a few, slow steps backwards.

Then, almost unexpectedly, there was a sudden crack, and the bridge surrendered to the force bearing down upon it. Right in the middle, where it was the weakest, the bridge snapped in half the moment the leading ogre set his heavy foot down, sending him plummeting down into the rapids churning at the bottom of the Thandol gorge. The two halves of the bridge swung apart, dumping a few more of the clumsy ogres into the ravine on one end, while Heero, who was smaller and lither, clung like a drowned rat to the last few planks of his.

"Oh, for the love of _Elune_!" Duo swore as he watched the spectacle from Trowa's side. He had just managed to scramble to safety when the bridge had fallen apart, but he had only just realized that Heero hadn't been right behind him until he turned around and saw the human clinging to the end. He glanced over at Trowa, who was frowning deeply, but wasn't making any moves to lend a hand. With a heavy sigh, Duo cast off his robes and deftly started to scramble down the planks in only his vest, britches and boots, ignoring Trowa's clear disapproval.

Descending the now-vertical bridge as if it were a swaying rope ladder, Duo was nearing Heero at a pace that was perhaps a bit too hasty for safety's sake, though such a thought never even entered his mind as he moved. All he could think about was making sure that Heero got out of this mess alive. Finally reaching the bottom, where Heero was struggling to keep his grip on the splintered wood. Gripping the planks with his skeletal hand, Duo thrust his fleshy forearm down towards Heero, offering it in such a way that it would be easy for the clambering rogue to grab on.

It took Heero a few moments to register what was going on: his eyes were full of rainwater, and he felt as if the amount that he had swallowed would be enough to drown him right there. Squinting up at Duo, he could barely make out Duo's rotted face, distracted by what appeared to be a scarred emblem burned into the underside of Duo's forearm. He stared at it, unable to make himself react until his brain managed to recall the seal as that of the Scarlet Crusade. This, of course, only served to bring a hundred more questions to mind, but at least Heero was able to force himself into reaching up to grab onto Duo's proffered arm with that unexpected distraction out of the way.

Duo helped Heero hoist himself out of peril, and soon, they were both clambering back up the bridge-ladder to where Trowa was waiting impatiently. The climb back up was much less harrowing than the one going down, and they were both able to move faster, eager to put that danger behind them. When they got to the top, Trowa grudgingly hauled them back up, and they both collapsed onto the ground to catch some air, despite the storm that was still hounding the land.

Despite this, Heero still noted how quick Duo was to throw his robes back over his decrepit body, tucking the peculiar Scarlet emblem away from his prying eyes. Willing himself to look away, he fought to swallow his curiosity about it and chose to pretend like he'd never even seen it.


	9. Seadog

**Title: **_**The Forsaken**_

**Author: **Link Worshiper

**Pairings:** 1=2, maybe some others if I feel like it

**Rating: **PG-13

**Stuff:** Fantasy AU, fluff, sap, language, adventure, WoW nerdiness

**Disclaimer:** I own Gundam Wing action figures? Warcraft and its lore belongs to Blizzard Entertainment. Both things are being played with out of fangirl love.

Thanks to danse and Natea for the once over. Despite the fact this is part of Natea's birthday present, I still needed her to fill me in on the Alliance history they don't teach us on Horde, so thanks for that also =P

-

I thought I would take a moment here to tell all of you readers, who think I stopped writing after 'Smells Like Teen Spirit' was ripped off this site so many years ago, that this is hardly the case. If you would like to read any of my fics from the past four years, please visit my site at . Thanks!

I might also add here that I will probably censor the version of this fic. Though I hear the site has become more lenient in content since the witch hunt of four years ago, I'm not taking any chances. Once again, you can find the unedited version on my LJ or my site. Though there won't be any edits until it starts getting… good.

-

_Part VIII_

_Seadog_

-

The low wetlands of Khaz Modan was a marshy, wooded area that fell under Alliance control. Once a thriving home for many of Ironforge's dwarves, the place had fallen into more chaotic times, now rife with wildlife, the occasional murloc village, and a few pockets of unfriendly Dark Iron dwarves. It wasn't much to travel there undetected, but it involved staying off the main roads, which were well traversed by the Alliance dwarves and humans who held the harbour to the west. And as far as Duo Blackscythe was concerned, playing it safe was just another euphemism for wasting time.

Still, they had to dodge an old, ruined dwarven town at the mouth of the wetlands that was now occupied by the Dark Irons. This clan of black sorcerers had alienated themselves from the dwarves of Ironforge, which was a close ally to Stormwind, and had been exiled to the volcanic lands to the south. Small crops of them could be found scattered between the Burning Steppes and the wetlands, and they were a rather hostile lot, eternally bitter that their campaign to rule over the other Ironforge dwarves had failed. Neither Duo nor Trowa particularly feared them, but Heero, who had fought with them before, knew them to be a more threatening enemy than most people gave them credit for. At least avoiding them this time proved to be relatively simple.

The rain had slowed to a misty drizzle as they pressed onwards along the main pathway. Duo kept prattling on about making good time, but it was clear that even he was a bit weary from their near death experience at the Thandol Span. Heero wanted to suggest making camp for even a few hours, but he knew he would be berated for even trying to suggest it, so he kept his mouth shut. Instead, he let himself wonder about the scarred Scarlet Crusade crest he'd seen burned into Duo's flesh and tried to come up with an explanation for it. Despite the fact that he'd told himself to forget about it, such a strange thing wasn't so easily ignored. The Scarlets were an extremist faction of overly religious humans that were hellbent on eradicating the undead from the face of Azeroth: it led Heero to wonder if Duo's burn mark signified a past affiliation with them or was a torturous reminder of capture after he'd died.

After a little more walking, it was actually Trowa that broke the silence. "You know," he said, slowing to a halt, "we're starting to run a little low on provisions." They were standing at a fork in the road that split the path between Menethil Harbour and the southern route that led to the Loch. Trowa's eyes kept darting between the two roads, unsure if it would be a worthwhile detour to head to the harbour to steal.

Jutting out his chin, Duo sighed with annoyance. "Well,_ maybe_ if you hadn't sent us rushing out of Arathi so prematurely, we would have had time to make sure that we had packed all your precious 'food'," he snapped, making airquotes around that last word. "The blame lies with no one other than yourself."

Silently, Heero agreed with Duo, but he knew that they wouldn't make it much longer if they didn't have anything to eat. He sorely wished Duo would at least concede to take a break while they deliberated over what to do.

"So let the Alliance find us. Wonderful," Trowa sneered sarcastically, rolling his green eyes. He glanced down at Heavypaw, who was anxiously pacing back and forth. "I'm not wasting arrows on squirrels, so dare not even mention it," Trowa added, stealing the suggestion right from Duo's mouth. True enough, the only things that might have offered them good meat were too small to bother with.

Duo glanced at Heero, who seemed like he was about to fall over his own feet, despite the strong way he was trying to carry himself. Scowling, he gave in. "Very well, we'll stop," he said morosely. "Maybe we'll send the human into the harbour town to steal what you need." He sent another glance at Heero, saying, "You _are_ a rogue, are you not? Stealing is the only thing you're good for." It was hard to tell if he was being sarcastic or not.

Heero chose not to rise to the bait and instead just shrugged his shoulders. They turned down the path leading towards the ocean, all the while keeping an eye out for a discreet spot to settle for the interim.

When they finally found a place to bunker down, Trowa barely let Heero sit before he was shooing him further down the path. "The sooner you go, the sooner we can leave," he said, tossing his head in the direction of the harbour.

Duo glanced up at Heero apologetically, aware that Heero would have liked a few moments to rest as well. He deliberated a moment and then reached for his staff, which he used to help himself stand. "I'll accompany you," he said by way of explanation. He added, mostly for Trowa's benefit, "You know, so he doesn't try anything funny… like escaping."

Heero knew Duo was more than aware that he had absolutely no intentions of trying to get away, but he appreciated the gesture nonetheless. He was pretty sure Trowa wouldn't care what Duo did so long as the same end was met, and true enough, the blood elf waved off Duo's request as if it were the most inconsequential thing in the world to him.

"Well then, shall we?" Duo said jovially, nodding his head in the direction of Menethil Harbour. "If we set out now, we could be back by nightfall," he said, ambling casually down the road as if they were off on a Sunday stroll. His odd bounces in attitude were extremely befuddling.

Heero trotted after him and soon fell in step with the undead warlock. He wasn't sure if he was comfortable enough to strike up a conversation with Duo just yet, but he definitely felt more at ease around him than he did around Trowa. It surprised him that Duo was the one to engage him first: "You know, I think Trowa's starting to appreciate you more," he commented idly after about fifteen minutes of silence.

Heero could only stare at Duo incredulously from the corners of his eyes.

Duo laughed, though it sounded more like a sinister cackle. "I think he just views you as a rival for his princely wiles," Duo jibbed, his grin warping the torn flesh in his face grotesquely. "The fact that he stopped to consider we need supplies for the both of you is telling enough," he elaborated. "He would have conveniently forgotten to make sure there was enough for you to eat if he really didn't like you that much."

Heero considered this and supposed it made sense. Besides, Duo knew Trowa better than he did and would thusly know better. "I suppose it's silly to expect much more from the Horde," he muttered to no one in particular.

Duo's hand tightened around his staff as his feet ground to a halt. He was now glaring at Heero with the same fire that had glowed in his eyes that first night they'd encountered each other. The potency of such an expression was a sharp reminder that Duo was not one to be trifled with despite his usually easygoing attitude. "It is Allies like you that ensure there will never be peace in Azeroth," Duo spat acidicly. "Do you forget that I – and even Trowa, no less – once stood proudly with the Alliance? We have no love for your kind anymore because you show none for us."

Heero frowned, but he stood his ground firmly enough. "And you Forsaken would have as all plagued and eradicated from this earth," he argued back. His voice did not waver from its usual, placid tone, even as he accused, "Or do you assume that every human is as morally corrupt as the Scarlet Crusade?"

Duo's face twisted into something that bordered between enraged and defeated. He gripped his staff with both hands as if he was trying to steady himself and then abruptly marched off, his ratty braid swinging behind his back like the tail of an unhappy dog. It was clear Heero had brushed some kind of nerve with his comment, and it left no doubt in his mind that Duo's past was somehow entwined with the Crusade. As he started to cautiously follow Duo, he was left with the bewildering question as to why he even cared.

"Slow yourself!" Heero called after Duo, practically jogging to keep up. He had to admit that he was a little miffed at Duo's sudden distaste, but he supposed he had earned the reaction. "Duo, forgive me."

The words were simple, but they had the staying power of a god. Duo stopped once more and turned around, his expression completely unreadable. "Why should I?" he demanded to know, though his voice remained frighteningly calm. The way he was fingering the top of his staff as if he were trying to draw attention to its power was unnerving.

"Because…." That was as far as Heero got before he trailed off, realizing he really didn't have a good answer to the question. In lieu of anything else, he simply shrugged.

Duo seemed unmoved by the honesty of Heero's plea, though. The corners of his mouth dropped as he said tightly, "You have made it clear that you dislike me and that you fear Trowa. Perhaps his treatment of you is the proper approach after all." He wrinkled his nose and turned on his heel once more: "I don't know," he said; "I suppose I expected something else out of you, Heero Yuy, Champion of Stormwind." And with that, he continued on towards the harbour, clutching his staff in a way that suggested he planned to wield its magic very soon.

Heero wasn't sure which bothered him more: the fact that Duo seemed very likely to set Menethil Harbour aflame, or that he had just lost the approval he never knew he even had with the warlock. Once again, he found himself hurrying to keep up with Duo, though he still wasn't sure what the right words would be. Sans Quatre, he was bad enough trying to keep up social relations with his own people, and it had surprised him that he seemed to be getting along better with Duo and Trowa than he had with another human in a very long time. It was startling clear to him now that such an impression had very little to do with anything he had put into their relations, though.

Soon, they were lingering behind a stand of trees near the bridge that led into the harbour town. Heero wasn't sure what Duo's plan was until he was given a push out into the open. "You still have that pack I gave you," Duo hissed, his annoyance about their earlier exchange still painfully apparent. "Use a couple coins and buy whatever it is you might want. They won't hurt a _human_ like you for walking their streets."

Heero chewed the inside of his cheek and warily made his way towards Menethil. He knew there had to be a catch in those orders, for it was far too simple a command. He hoped that Duo wasn't planning to raze the town as soon as he was inside, though the reality of that prospect was a fairly nerve-wracking thing. He paused to wonder what it was that Duo was trying to test him with, all the while wishing he understood Duo's motivations so he could make a better assessment.

As Heero walked through the town, he found it was strange being amongst men once more. Hardly anyone even spared him a glance, and when they did, it was to try and draw him to their shops and stalls along the docks. He wondered if they could tell who he was or where he'd been – if they would throw him into the sea for commiserating with the Horde. He stopped at a fish vendor, perusing his catch almost blindly as he pondered the finer points of that particular train of thought. It was almost uncanny how depressed he felt about the whole thing.

Later, Heero was still wandering through the town, though he had since purchased some smoked venison and stolen some rather expensive cheese. He had also bought a few skins of sweet goat milk, some sweet bread and dried fish, though he had also pick pocketed a sailor in order to afford it all. He wasn't sure what had driven him to acquire so many of the provisions by underhanded means. He wanted to believe that it was just an exercise to keep his skills sharp, but deep down, he knew it had more to do with impressing his companions. He was loath to admit it, but he did find a kind of pride in winning Trowa's respect, and a comfort in Duo's friendship. He thought he might take the time to even bring back some other bauble for Duo as a truce of sorts: the warlock was probably getting very impatient waiting for him. Unfortunately for Heero, it was another decent idea that wasn't entirely well thought out, and didn't take long for him to realize that he had no clue what sort of trinket Duo might like, the idea of which only served to frustrate him more. He tried to remember the sorts of things he'd given as gifts to people he'd cared about in the past, but it was an unfruitful venture. He ended up leaving town in a most foul mood indeed.

Walking across the bridge found Heero witness to something else that made his blood boil. Near the pathway, about a stone's throw away from where he had left Duo earlier, was a small group of Menethil sailors, all of whom were sneering and jeering loudly. Approaching the cluster of boorish men, Heero was quick to realize that they were surrounding Duo and taking advantage of their ranks to toy with him. The very concept of this drove Heero out of his mind, thinking there was no honour in men who only had courage in numbers and drink.

"Oh, little rotted corpse wants his _pet_ back!" Heero heard one of them croon mean-spiritedly as he approached. He soon realized that the sailor in question was holding Asahi between his thumb and forefinger, dangerously close to squashing the poor insect between them.

"I swear to you, I will feast on your corpse if you hurt him," Duo growled, though he actually sounded more petulant than menacing. Heero's question as to why Duo hadn't just killed them already was quickly answered when he realized that the warlock was tangled up in a fishing net and that one of the sailors had confiscated his staff and wand.

"No' from th'bottom of yon sea, ye won't!" laughed another one, his voice slurred with alcohol. The others joined in his amusement, and a third sailor added, "Or from the bottom of the Scarlet clink!"

More laughter filled the air, but Heero barely heard any of it. Blood was pounding in his ears, deafening him to everything but the chilling whisper of something unseen. _'Don't let them abuse your companion so,'_ it hissed. _'Protect him; I can help you….'_ Heero felt a familiar pressure within his chest, so much like the time he had thought those orcs were going to execute him at Tarren Mill, and he found himself unconsciously nodding his head in agreement to the offer. A surge of power suddenly coursed through his body, but it filled him with a strange kind of comfort as his consciousness drained away and his vision stung red.

Leaping forward and brandishing a set of demonic talons, Heero rushed towards the gaggle of sailors, howling like a rabid dog. His body was still human, but there was definitely something very animalistic about his demeanor that alerted the sailors to the fact that he was not an ally. His ears had elongated and there were strange markings streaking his face and body. His mouth was filled with sharp fangs that made his lips bleed when he tried to close it, but it was more than that: he loped and fought like a beast, and spoke only in grunts and roars.

He managed to snatch one of the sailors as he tried to get away, digging his claws into his back and wrenching him back onto the ground. With mindless rage, he pierced the sailor's throat with his talons, pinning him to the earth, pummeling his face with his other hand until the sailor went limp beneath him. But killing one was hardly enough to satisfy the demonic lust welling up inside of Heero, and it wasn't long before he'd launched himself at another one, dragging him down and murdering him in a similar fashion.

Duo, still caught up in the fishing net, could only sit and look on. Though the carnage was actually something that pleased him, the fact that the demon seemed to have just that little bit more control over Heero was unsettling. If the demon took control of Heero every time Heero was blind with rage, it would only be a matter of time before there was nothing left of the rogue in that human shell. He only hoped he would be able to calm Heero once the danger had passed, and, with that thought in mind, quickly set to work at trying to free himself from the net. No longer in danger, Asahi did his best to help as much as an insect could.

By the time Duo had managed to wrest himself free, all the sailors were dead. Heero sat in the middle of a pile of bodies, bathed in blood. His chest heaved as he stared at nothing, almost as if there wasn't anything for him if he couldn't continue killing. Cautiously, Duo approached the scene, unobtrusively prying his staff and wand from the stiff fingers of one of the bodies. Clearly, the sailors picking on Duo had been what had set Heero off, but Duo still wasn't sure if this uncontrolled Heero would still be able to discern that if he got too near. He wondered what the best approach would be, knowing he would have to think of something quickly lest the people from the harbour notice something was terribly amiss.

Deciding to throw caution to the wind, Duo called out to Heero by name, but the word didn't register with the possessed rogue at all. He tried again, this time taking a few steps towards Heero in hopes that he wouldn't catch him off guard. This only half worked, for as he got near, Heero yelped and threw himself at Duo, tackling him to the ground. Duo quickly threw up his skeletal arm as a defense, which Heero chomped down on viciously. His dead body felt nothing, so it didn't really bother him much. "Seems like our little prince is hungry," Duo chuckled as Heero continued to chew at the bones. He patted the top of Heero's head, hoping that Heero would ease back to normalcy if he felt safe and comfortable, though he couldn't help but be concerned that the demonic rage had been so quick to overtake him. The naturalistic way it seemed to settle upon him wasn't very comforting either.

Thankfully, Heero seemed to come around much sooner than he had the last time, and without the uncanny sleeping spell to hinder him. If getting as far from Menethil and the dead sailors wasn't a top priority, Duo might have stopped to become even more disquieted about yet another indicator that the demon was making itself much more at home in Heero's consciousness. However, it took them a bit longer than Duo would have liked to get going, for as soon as Heero was himself again, the first thing he noticed was that he was completely drenched in blood. His breath started to hitch as his fingers dug into the nearest possible thing, which happened to be Duo. "Wh-What is this?" he stammered, soon realizing that they were surrounded by a sea of mutilated bodies.

Duo pushed Heero off his lap rather unceremoniously and got to his feet abruptly. Making a show of dusting off his robes so he wouldn't have to look Heero in the eye, he said casually, "You set the sigil off again, and the demon came out for a romp."

Heero's eyes widened in horror when it dawned upon him what he had done. Seeming a little unsure as to how he ought to proceed, he glanced back at the bridge to the harbour, then at the path that led back to Trowa. His voice barely a whisper, he wondered, "How could I do such a thing?"

Duo fought to keep himself as placid as he could. "That demon feeds on your emotions and uses them against you," he said succinctly. "Clearly, you were… unsettled by whatever those men were doing." He neatly avoided making it known that he had been captive and at the mercy of a lot of drunkards as he bent to pick up the provisions pack, which Heero had discarded when the demon had overtaken him.

Heero frowned at Duo's back as he sauntered off in the direction that led back to Trowa and Heavypaw. He had trained his whole life to keep things such as feelings as suppressed as possible, and it bothered him that something had irritated him enough to allow such a thing to happen. He found it to be a sure sign of weakness and took to mentally berating himself as he followed Duo down the road. He would not let himself be ruled by the twittering whims of his emotions: all that ever left anybody was a wake of heartache and destruction, and had ruined greater men than he on the battlefield.

There was no honour in feeling.

-

TBC!!


	10. Ripples

**Title: **_**The Forsaken**_

**Author: **Link Worshiper

**Pairings:** 1=2, maybe some others if I feel like it

**Rating: **PG-13

**Stuff:** Fantasy AU, fluff, sap, language, adventure, WoW nerdiness

**Disclaimer:** I own Gundam Wing action figures? Warcraft and its lore belongs to Blizzard Entertainment. Both things are being played with out of fangirl love.

Thanks to danse and Natea for the once over. Despite the fact this is part of Natea's birthday present, I still needed her to fill me in on the Alliance history they don't teach us on Horde, so thanks for that also =P

_Part X_

_Ripples_

Duo knew that Trowa was probably wondering where they were, but he also thought it would be prudent to stop and make sure that neither of them wore any telltale signs of the demonic slaughter that had overtaken Heero near the harbour. They had long since evacuated the scene of the fight, but they were still a good twenty minute pace from where Trowa was waiting. Stopping at one of the more secluded pools of the many that covered the wetlands, Duo sat down at its edge and commanded Heero to start washing.

Still trying hard to act as reserved as possible around Duo, Heero started pulling off his gloves and boots. All of his outerwear was so bloodstained, it looked as if he had cured the leather with a dark red dye. Even his face looked as if it had been painted, and his long bangs were stiff with crusted blood. He grimaced as each piece of clothing was dropped into an unceremonious pile at his side. Then, stripped down to only a linen shirt and underwear, he slid into the shallow pool, wading in to his knees and then sitting down to scrub his skin clean. As he bent over the rippling water to splash his face, he paused, momentarily caught off guard by how alien his features looked covered in so much gore. It reminded him how unlike a hero he was. "This is not life," he murmured.

"What's wrong?" came Duo's voice from behind. He sounded pleasant – or as pleasant as a Forsaken could – and it served only to confuse Heero as to what his mood was.

"Nothing," Heero intoned flatly, not bothering to turn around. He dunked his head into the pool and let the blood clout the water around his face. He resurfaced to the sound of Duo's raspy guffaws.

"Your guilt amuses me," Duo finally managed to say between laughs. He was leaning over the side of the pool, trying to rinse the blood from his huge sleeves while avoiding as much water as possible. Asahi bounced next to him, a tiny silk bandage wrapped almost comically around his middle.

At this, Heero whirled around, the water churning around his legs as he did so. "You would make sport of someone who feels guilt at the hands of slaughter?" he demanded, shaking.

"No," Duo drawled, flicking his still dirty sleeves. "But I _would_ treat one as such who felt guilt over something he could not help. To me, that is wasted effort."

Heero's lips tightened, but he did not argue. Duo had a fair enough point, he supposed, but it didn't do to make him feel much better. Besides, the more he thought about it, the more it _did_ seem like he was the one to blame: if he hadn't obeyed King Milliardo's command, for instance….

Meanwhile, Duo was still watching Heero from the bank, no longer interested in his sleeves after deeming the purple fabric dark enough to mask the blood. Instead, he leaned his chin into one hand and observed wistfully, "You're the sort who never changes, it would seem."

Heero, who had barely gone back to washing himself, found himself turning to glare at Duo once more. "What does that mean?" he wanted to know.

"You – your attitude – I can see it all over your face," Duo clarified, though he still somehow managed to be vague. "You try not to feel remorse for anything, but when you do, it eats away at your soul, doesn't it." The comment wasn't even a question, but a very confident statement of fact. "Or perhaps you have conditioned yourself to follow orders so perfectly and so thoughtlessly, you don't even see the repercussions of your actions until—"

"Enough!" Heero interrupted loudly, not fond of where Duo was heading with his assessment. Smacking the water impatiently, he grimaced, "You may have heard of me, but far be it to know who I am and what my life is like. Presume what you want, but dare not think that you understand a _thing_ about me, Duo Blackscythe."

Much to Heero's annoyance, all Duo did was allow his lips to rise up into a lazy smile, which actually made Heero more uncomfortable than even the most wicked expression he had yet seen on Duo's face. It seemed to Heero like Duo was not the sort to say what he meant, though he certainly meant what he said. It made him wonder, not for the first time, just who Duo was, really.

Gathering his fill of amusement from Heero's very visible agitation, Duo interrupted Heero's thoughts, saying, "Mm, you tell me so much without even trying. It must be hard wearing your heart on your sleeve without anyone ever noticing it's there." He was eying Heero carefully, eager for even the tiniest of reactions, but was disappointed to find that Heero had stifled his expression with almost painful vigor. Masking his own dissatisfaction, Duo turned away from Heero and glared sharply at the pile of bloody leathers Heero had left by the pool, all the while wondering if Heero's stiltedness had more to do with faction or with him, personally. "Hurry it up, then," he barked, his frustration creeping into his voice. "We haven't got all day, and Trowa will be wondering if we've drowned in the harbour by now."

Heero took a moment to simply stare at Duo, once again put off guard by this sudden flip in attitude. He probably would have remained that way for a bit longer if Duo hadn't abruptly decided to kick all his bloody clothing into the pond, jarring Heero from his stupor. Snapping back to attention, Heero growled, "You're the one who insisted we stop, so don't place the blame on me for our delay."

"Tch, you humans are so preoccupied with blame," Duo snorted, crossing his arms presumptuously. "In death, you would find that such things matter hardly at all."

"Then it is a shame not all of us can be like you," Heero deadpanned, stomping through the water to fish his leathers out before they became damaged. His growing agitation was plain with the way he threw each article back onto the bank with astounding vigor.

The comment struck a nerve with Duo, and all of his usually controlled demeanor faded away. His lips curling back around his jagged teeth, he snapped, "Alright, then why don't you just drag as many humans as you can up to Northrend and let yourselves fall victim to the Scourge? Then you can see how _wonderful_ undeath tastes in the service of Treize." He spat unceremoniously at Heero's pile of wet clothing, which Heero had just pulled out of the water. "Or would you rather me just take you back to Undercity, where my colleagues in the Royal Apothecary Society can experiment on you until your intestines fall out of your ears."

This time, there was no question as to whether or not Duo was joking, which flustered Heero to no end. Taken aback, he stammered, "Duo, I-I'm sorry… I…."

"Forget it!" Duo went on, not even hearing Heero's attempted apology. "You have no idea what it's like to wake up one day and realize that you're dead. It's almost worse being Forsaken than even being one of the Scourge, because at least then, you have no idea what's happened to you. At least you have no idea who you're killing, who you're… you're…." Duo had started to quiver, though whether it was because of rage or distress was hard to tell.

It was then that a few key pieces fell into place for Heero. With a hum of realization, he asked softly, "Duo, who did you lose to the Scourge?"

The words crashed against the backs of Duo's teeth as he suddenly clamped his mouth shut in surprise, a finger still lifted like he meant to deliver a particularly menacing argument. His empty, glowing eye sockets flickered as he slowly lowered his hand, staring straight through Heero all the while. "Trowa mentioned it briefly," Duo mumbled so quietly, Heero had to strain to hear. "It was my brother…."

Heero dared not move, even as water dripped from the tips of his bangs and ran uncomfortably down his face. Once again, that urge to know more about Duo – to understand him – rose up within him, but this time, he did nothing to try and quell it. He even held his breath.

But Duo said no more on the subject, quick to direct the conversation in a way that would keep Heero's prying curiosity far from his personal history. Heero was starting to notice that Duo's jumps in tone and attitude seemed to be coupled with subject matters the undead warlock would rather avoid.

"And what about you?" Duo said glibly, jabbing a bony finger at Heero. "You who is so tightly wound? You must have a reason for being that way. Perhaps something you'd rather hide?" Again, Duo's face was warped with the shape of that damned smile of his, like he knew far more than he was letting on, but this time, Heero suspected it was a ruse to divert the true nature of his feelings.

A breeze rippled across the pool, causing Heero to shiver as he stared up at the overcast sky, frowning. Even if he had wanted to supply Duo with an answer, he wasn't sure what he would have said. Duo had an uncanny knack for getting under his skin with just the right comment, and a discomforting nausea settled in his stomach at the realization that Duo seemed to understand him well enough to do so. It reminded him of when he had been younger and living in Dalaran: those who had managed to push their way into his circle of trust had made him feel similarly with their observations of his character, and even worse still, when a good number of them faded into mere memories. If he was worried about the prospect of Duo leaving him alone as so many of the people in his past had, then Heero could safely say that stranger things had happened.

However, he said nothing of these musings as he continued to methodically scrub the blood out of his clothing. He had learned a long time ago that silence was often the safest route, even if it hurt to swallow.

Meanwhile, as that same breeze tossed through Duo's long, ratty hair, a similar nostalgia had settled upon the Forsaken's shoulders. He forced himself to look away from Heero, whose very existence reminded him so much of what it had been like to be alive, cursing the emptiness that undeath had left him. Looking around at the beautiful life he could only stand on the outside of, he muttered under his breath, "You have no idea how lucky you are to simply be alive."

Heero pointedly ignored him, dunking his leather jerkin through the reflection of his face in the water.

Trowa was dosing by the dying embers of a fire and the swishing tail of the ever-watchful Heavypaw when Heero and Duo returned. Heero still looked a bit messy, and his hair was damp, but he was a sight less noticeable than he'd been when he'd been covered in blood. Both he and Duo were a bit on the morose side since their discussion by the pond, each lost in his own thoughts about the meaning of the words they'd exchanged, and it didn't take long for Trowa to take notice.

"What now?" he bemoaned, getting to his feet so he could stamp out the remnants of the fire with the heel of his boot. "Did you have a lovers quarrel or something?" His voice was barbed with sarcasm.

"Very funny," Duo sneered, though his eyes had slid in Heero's direction surreptitiously. Without further ado, he tossed the bag of provisions at Trowa, which landed at his feet with an unceremonious thud. "Well, let's keep going then," he said impatiently as Trowa stooped to inspect what they had obtained at the harbour.

Trowa was still rummaging through the pack as they began to walk again. "Excellent taste," he commented as he pulled a flagon of wine out of the bag so he could inspect the label better. He glanced over at Heero, who was staring at the ground, and gave him a nod of approval when he finally managed to catch his eye.

With Duo leading the way, followed by Heero and then Trowa and Heavypaw, they resumed their course south, towards the enormous loch that was regulated by a stone wrought dam so large, it knew no parallel anywhere else in Azeroth. They would have to travel around the loch, treading carefully because the land was still Alliance controlled until they reached the contested territory beyond it. The mood was still a bit awkward, and they continued in a silence that was interrupted only by their footfalls and the twitter of the woodlands around them.

After traveling like this for a bit, the monotony was broken up for Trowa by a low chime that seemed to be coming from his hip pouch. Slowing his pace only slightly, Trowa peeled back the flap to investigate the sound, unsurprised to find Heero's owl charm glowing faintly in the depths of the bag. He schooled his reaction, silently lamenting what a horrible time Quatre had chosen to try and contact him, only to then worry whether or not the priest had somehow known to choose this moment intentionally. He snapped the pouch's flap closed, resolutely boring his stare into the back of Heero's head as if ignoring the charm would make it stop. It actually seemed to work for a bit, until Heero, who seemed to have just noticed the chime, started frantically digging through his own hip pouch in search of the charm he hadn't realized he'd lost.

Taking note of the commotion behind him, Duo looked back over his shoulder with furrowed eyebrows, wondering what was wrong.

"My… this… this trinket that my friend…." Heero stammered distractedly, now patting down his entire length as if he might have squirreled it away somewhere else on his person and then forgotten. "I thought I heard its magic," he explained vaguely, distracted by his frantic search. Trowa unconsciously gripped the belt loop his own side pouch hung from.

Duo frowned, crossing his arms and tossing his head with exasperation. "Well, no need to lose your marbles over it," he said. "You're giving me stress just watching you like that."

"No, you don't understand," Heero fretted, his hands thrust back into his side pouch for a second rummage through. "It was a gift from my oldest – from my _only_ – friend! I can't have lost it…. I'll be all…." He trailed off, distracted by his fruitless search. His face contorted with frustration, and had he not been the well-schooled individual he was, he might have let out a roar so mighty, it would have shook the very boughs of the trees that stood around them.

Duo's face melted into a bland expression that was meant to disguise the disheartened sensation welling up inside him. It surprised him that a feeling such as empathy was something he could still experience in his current, eternally embittered state, but it was not unwelcome. It seemed almost ridiculous now that he thought about it, but he had kind of begun to feel like he might be called a friend of Heero's, and to hear otherwise was a bit of an unexpected blow.

It was then that Duo shot a glance at Trowa, who seemed suspiciously unenthused, and noticed the way the elf was gripping his side pouch. It didn't take long for Duo to make the right deduction before he was stomping by Heero and toward Trowa. One hand shooting out to snatch Trowa's wrist and jerk it away, Duo reached for Trowa's hip pouch with his skeletal fingers and popped it open. As Trowa tried in vain to wrest himself from Duo's surprisingly tight hold, Duo dug into the pouch, soon unearthing the missing owl charm, the glow of which pulsated tellingly between his fingers as it continued to magically chime. "Is _this_ what you were looking for, Heero?" Duo asked, fixing a very unfriendly glare onto the side of Trowa's face.

Heero's eyes widened, both surprised that Trowa had stolen the charm and angry that he had allowed it to happen. It was only his immense relief that it wasn't gone forever that kept him from stepping in to teach the blood elf prince a lesson or two with his fists.

Angrily, Trowa jerked himself free of Duo's grip, massaging his wrist with his other hand as he glowered at the warlock. "And it's a good job I did, too, thanks," he said sharply. "That little toy opens a communication portal. It would lead the Alliance right to us!"

Heero took that moment to interject, no longer willing to let Trowa speak ill of those he did not even know. "You say it as if I am plotting to deceive you," he shot back, his steady voice hardly subduing his anger even the slightest bit. "Do you not remember that Duo and I agreed on this arrangement? Why would you assume that the Alliance would care enough to disband something that is so mutually beneficial?"

The fighting words struck a definite chord with Trowa, who argued back, "Because the Alliance is completely preoccupied with delivering retribution on every party it thinks has wronged it in the past, whether it is justified, sensible or not, that's why!"

"And _you_ assume the entire Alliance shares the same views as King Milliardo," Heero snapped, almost as shocked by his own words as Trowa seemed to be. Though he had always questioned some of his king's more questionable tactics and motives, he had never teetered on such a treasonous edge before. It startled him further to realize that voicing such things was frighteningly liberating.

Standing on the outside of the debate, still holding the charm, Duo decided to interject. Holding the glowing owl up, he said, "And what are we to do with this?"

Heero started to reach for it, but Trowa proved to be faster. Snatching it back from Duo, he announced flatly, "It is probably that priest consort of Relena Proudmoore's. He will be expecting to see me." Without further ado, he angled himself a bit from the other two and rubbed the charm, calling the communication portal into the air before him.

Quatre was missing when the magic took its final shape, though he was quick to wander back into view once he realized that his call had finally been answered. "Good day to you, fair prince," he said with a slight nod of his head. "I was starting to worry something had befallen you without my aid."

Arching his eyebrows, Trowa replied curtly, "You give yourself too much credit, priest. I am doing rather well, thank you."

Their banter might have continued in that fashion for a time if Heero hadn't suddenly interrupted. Barging right up to the communication portal, he shoved Trowa aside to greet Quatre with a bold stare and a sharp nod of his head. "I am sorry I haven't spoken to you in a while, friend," he said by means of apology.

Quatre seemed surprised to be suddenly met with Heero's face, but he quickly warmed at the sight of his childhood companion. "It is good to see you are well, Heero," he said with a smile. His eyes darted in the direction Heero had pushed Trowa, his lips parted like he was going to add something else, though he seemed to think better of it before the words came out.

Heero took the moment to explain the situation to Quatre, uncaring that Trowa was standing to the side with a dark glower in his eyes. "Before you worry over the company I have chosen to keep, know that I am with them of my own will," he said. "I have made an arrangement with the third of our party, a warlock who has vowed to help me… dispose of the sigil Milliardo bade me to find."

"But why? And at what cost?" Quatre asked before he had the chance to quell the curiosity. His eyes swung around, searching the area where Heero stood until he caught sight of Duo, who was still lingering in the background with his arms crossed. If Quatre was concerned by the fact that Duo was Forsaken, he did a good job of keeping it quiet, thoughtfully chewing his lip instead.

"The Epyon sigil is evil," Heero explained simply. "Milliardo cannot have it, even if he thinks it will ensure Alliance dominance over Azeroth."

"No, it wouldn't do to upset this delicate balance of peace we have bred," Quatre mused, stroking his chin. Behind Heero, Duo piqued, impressed by such an observation from someone he hadn't expected much of.

From Heero's other side, Trowa cleared his throat loudly, as if to remind the others that he was the reason they were speaking to Quatre at all. He said, "Well, what is it you wanted of me, Quatre Winner?"

Quatre turned his attention back to the blood elf prince, schooling his features once more as he answered. "I thought I might check on you to find out when you might need some more magic to feed on," he said with a shrug. "But since you seem to be just fine as you are, I shall—"

"Oh no, you won't escape our deal so easily," Trowa cut him off. "Do not think I am completely oblivious to your tactic of trying to scout out our location every time we speak," he said candidly. "If you wish for us to keep with this bargain we have made with your rogue friend, you will come to me with a new charm in three days time, and not a moment before or a moment late. Understood?"

Much to Trowa's chagrin, Quatre merely laughed and repeated, "Understood." Then, with almost uncharacteristic abruptness, he snapped and ended their communication, leaving Trowa, Heero and Duo alone in the wetlands once more.

"Well, that was interesting," Duo commented to break the awkward silence that had befallen the trio.

Heero was too busy glaring at Trowa to merit Duo with much of a response. "You undermined the truce we had come to for this outing," Heero accused flatly, his hands balled up in tight fists at his side. "You are too used to your station, prince."

"You would do to know your place, _human_," Trowa retorted, clenching the owl charm tightly.

The way Trowa was eying Duo, it would have seemed that he expected the warlock to back him up. Unfortunately, Duo had his own agenda to see to, which didn't offer Trowa the support he wanted. "I thought I told you that your jurisdiction means nothing out here, far from your kingdom," Duo said ambiguously. "Respecting you as a prince has nothing to do with obeying your every whim."

Trowa was clearly displeased by this answer, but chose to bottle his annoyance. He made a show of cramming the owl trinket back into his hip pouch, and then whistled for Heavypaw, who padded alongside his master as he stomped to the front of their procession and took up the role of leading the way. Despite such decisive movements, the course way Trowa was muttering under his breath certainly took away from his usually regal stature quite a bit.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Duo asked, catching an earful of some of Trowa's more colourful complaints. "I'm right behind you, you know; I can hear everything you say."

Whirling around, Trowa iterated with chopped words, "I _said,_ it would seem to me that you actually give the human _preference_ over me. Me, who is supposed to be your best friend!" From the way he spoke, it almost sounded like he was more offended by this prospect than the suggestion that Duo was undermining his royal authority.

"Maybe I _do_," Duo retorted vaguely, though there was a bit of fight to his tone. "I can do as I please."

"I don't see what he ever did for you to make it so," Trowa groused as he turned around and picked up the pace again. His long, quick strides forced the rest of them to hustle just to keep up.

"And I don't see what he ever did to _you_ to create such disdain," Duo grumbled to himself, half hoping Trowa would hear. "You make judgments on him before you even know him!"

"I never said I don't like him," Trowa snapped over his shoulder as if Heero wasn't just a couple yards behind him. "It just bothers me that you are so quick to trust him."

Duo's eyes narrowed as he bluntly replied, "Like you and that priest?"

Trowa's nostrils flared as he pursed his lips and faced forward again, petulantly stalking onwards without so much as a backwards comment for Duo, who merely stared smugly at Trowa's back as he followed.

Bringing up the rear and safely out of their eyesight, Heero couldn't help but smile.


	11. The Stonewrought Dam

**Title: **_**The Forsaken**_

**Author: **Link Worshiper

**Pairings:** 1=2, maybe some others if I feel like it

**Rating: **PG-13

**Stuff:** Fantasy AU, fluff, sap, language, adventure, WoW nerdiness

**Disclaimer:** I own Gundam Wing action figures? Warcraft and its lore belongs to Blizzard Entertainment. Both things are being played with out of fangirl love.

Thanks to danse and Natea for the once over. Despite the fact this is part of Natea's birthday present, I still needed her to fill me in on the Alliance history they don't teach us on Horde, so thanks for that also =P

--

_Part XI_

_The Stonewrought Dam_

--

By the time the trio reached the edge of the wetlands and the safety of its tree-lined pathways, twilight had given way to inky darkness. Heero was starting to feel the weight of the day's march on his shoulders, but he knew there was no way that Trowa was going to sacrifice the cover of night for his benefit, so he settled for munching on a small loaf of bread instead as they lingered in the shadows, deliberating what to do next.

Beyond the trees stood the enormous dam that held the loch back, controlling the flow of the water from the lake above with a series of regulated waterfalls. It was another testament to dwarven ingenuity and a monument of times ages past. Just standing near it was enough to remind Heero how truly small he was, and, while Duo and Trowa continued to bicker about which way they should approach the Badlands, Heero was left to ponder, not for the first time since they'd started, whether or not this entire endevour would prove worthwhile. He was just one person, and not a king, or even a prince; how could he ever hope to stand in the way of an ambitious man like Milliardo Wrynn?

"We should come around the eastern bank," Trowa was saying, practically shouting to be heard over the thundering waterfalls. "Then we can be sure to avoid Thelsamar and any Allies that might be lurking there."

But Duo was shaking his head throughout Trowa's suggestion, though. "It is but a small town, and it's must faster to travel down the western bank," he shouted back. "We are heading to Kargath, are we not?"

"I wouldn't know!" snapped Trowa; "You've been extremely close-mouthed about what we are even doing down in these parts, aside from escorting your human pet back to Stormwind. I don't see why we're even walking at all!"

Duo chose not to even get into an argument with Trowa about whether or not the Undercity giant bat handler would have allowed more than one person to ride one of his precious mounts, especially if one of them was clearly not part of the Horde. Instead, he cut to the heart of it: "_Because_, if you've forgotten, I also told the human I'd help him get rid of his curse in exchange for one of Stormwind's treasures," he reminded Trowa tartly. "And to do that, the first thing I need is a blade forged of the strongest metal we can find, which, in these parts, would be thorium – and there's loads of it just south of here."

"I still don't see why you're so adamant to help him," Trowa grumbled to himself, irately tugging at Heavypaw's mane.

Duo blithely ignored the elf and turned to Heero, surprising him with a question about his opinion on the matter. Heero, who had only been half paying attention to what seemed like a typical argument between Trowa and Duo, was startled and unsure what to say.

"It boils down to efficiency or precaution," Duo summed up, raising his voice even louder to reach Heero's ears.

It didn't take long for Heero to come up with an answer. "The western bank," he said with a shrug, privately enjoying the irate look that crossed Trowa's face as he spoke. "If our next destination is indeed that Horde outpost in the Badlands, then it is the natural decision. Besides," he added, growing more confident as he continued, "there is nothing for _me_ to fear in Thelsamar."

"Well, aren't _you_ lucky," Trowa groused, clearly not pleased that he was being challenged on both sides. "What a shame it is we all can't be afforded the same luxury."

Duo interjected before Trowa had a chance to get too much more out of hand. "So it's settled, then," he said, waving Trowa off like a miscreant fly. "We'll climb up the dam and travel down the loch's western bank." Rubbing his palms together, he grinned a dastardly grin, eyes glimmering in the darkness. "Let's get started then, shall we?"

Duo had barely whirled in the proper direction when Trowa voiced his opinion yet again, his voice far more firm than it had been before: "I still am not at ease with this," he said staunchly, as if he were issuing a decree. "I still think that it would be more prudent to avoid any Alliance villages at all costs."

Halfway through one of the small rivulets that fed into the wetlands, Duo splashed back around to face Trowa. "As we head towards the biggest Alliance village of all," he sighed with an unmistakable twinge of sarcasm. He marched right back up to Trowa and straightened, trying to measure up to Trowa's stature as best he could. "Look, you're either with us or not," he said, jabbing a skeletal finger into the center of Trowa's chest, "and _we're_ going down the western bank!"

Trowa's mouth quivered wordlessly for a few moments before he finally retorted, "Fine! And _I_ will go down the eastern bank." He let the meaning of what he said sink in on Duo, and a small grin tugged his lips as he added, "Don't expect me to play cavalry when you get held up around Thelsamar." With that, he turned his back on Duo and started to head in the opposite direction, Heavypaw at his heels.

Duo stood defiantly in place as he watched Trowa head towards the eastern side of the dam, his expression tight and unreadable, despite the show he'd been putting on earlier. "Smug bastard," he muttered to himself.

Hearing him from his spot a few paces off, Heero volunteered a small sympathy. "If it makes you feel better," he said, his tone frank as usual, "my friend, Quatre – that priest Trowa's been talking to – has a particular way of putting such 'smug bastards' in their proper place."

His expression tweaking a bit, Duo glanced over at Heero and asked with a suspicious nod, "What makes you so sure he could manage one like Trowa?"

At this, Heero couldn't help but let a small chuckle escape his lips as he replied, "Well, he managed to cull me."

The assurance was more than Duo could have asked for.

--

So massive was the loch, it seemed as if the entire star-speckled sky fit within the confines of its banks as Trowa rounded the eastern edge. The surface of the water was perfectly still, despite the flow of the dam's waterfalls that channeled immeasurable amounts of it to the basin below, and he felt a sense of peace in this newfound solitude. He hadn't meant to argue with Duo before, and he trusted that Duo was smart enough to take care of himself, so he stopped concerning himself with it and instead took the moment to enjoy this brief reprieve from his companions. It wasn't until he was on his own again that he realized how tense he had been for the last few days.

It satisfied him only briefly, however, for it didn't take long for a spell of loneliness to set in. Duo and his impulsive scheme to help that damned human might have been ridiculous, even obnoxious at times, but that haphazard attitude was one of the things Trowa liked best about his friend. Even the human, hesitant as he was to admit it, had a few respectable qualities here and there. He thought about his initial intrigue when the whole situation had been presented to him, and he suddenly found himself remembering why he'd wanted to come along at all. Idly, he reached for Heavypaw and stroked his fur, murmuring, "At least you are always here for me, friend." He sighed as Heavypaw let out a contented purr, wishing the lion could speak the languages of men.

The thought of conversation found Trowa's hand wandering towards his hip pouch, where he kept Quatre's owl charm. When he realized what he was doing, however, he quickly chomped down on his lower lip and quickly pinned his hand behind his back. It wouldn't do to make the priest think he relied on him, especially after that comment Duo had made earlier.

Resolutely, he marched forward, a tight frown marking his features. Peacefulness was certainly a lonely affair.

--

Quiet also fell on the western bank as Heero and Duo progressed on their own way. Unsure of what he should say, or if he even ought to say anything at all, Heero spent the time feeling anxious that Duo would mark it as yet another thing he found insufficient about him. Duo, on the other hand, was actually just reveling in the fact that they seemed to be enjoying what seemed to be a rather comfortable silence together. Even including Trowa, he hadn't been able to feel that way around anybody in quite some time.

That sense of comfort was particularly telling by the fact that Duo was able to easily speak his mind when a whimsical thought passed through his mind. "Do you think we're ahead of Trowa?" he wondered, peering into the distance as if he were searching for a sign of movement across the loch, despite the fact that it was impossible to see the other bank from where they stood. He let out a raspy sigh when he realized this.

Heero barely glanced at the water, too busy watching Duo for some kind of sign that might indicate where he was going with this particular train of thought. He wondered what it meant that he only saw Duo as he usually was, his corpse slightly hunched over as he leaned heavily on his staff, lackadaisical, and impossible to read. Considering the slightly guarded way the warlock still carried himself around Trowa, who was his old friend, the easygoing attitude made Heero suspicious that it was all some kind of ruse to lure him into a false sense of security.

"I mean, it _is_ longer, but after a couple hundred years of gallivanting through the woods, Trowa is a very fast runner," Duo continued to muse, knitting his leathery brow. He let out a hoarse chuckle, adding, "The years certainly have been kinder to his body – and his face – than they have mine."

"You look well enough for someone who's dead," Heero found himself saying before he had a chance to stop himself. Flustered, he swallowed when he noticed the comment had garnered Duo's yellowed gaze. "Or certainly no better than you surely did when you were alive," he tried to amend, though it didn't do much to rescind what he'd said. Frustrated, he said rather crossly, "Not that it even matters. Why do you care if he's ahead of us or not?"

"Because we're _competing_," Duo answered as if it were obvious, though he couldn't stop the smirk teasing his torn lips.

"Is that what it is," Heero muttered under his breath.

"It is," Duo insisted with a note of finality, straightening as much as his misaligned spine would allow him to.

Heero grunted and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Well, if _I_ had a hundred years to live, I'm still not sure it would be enough time for me to ever quite understand you," Heero retorted flatly, crossing his arms.

"At least you would be trying," answered Duo, turning south with a swoosh of his violet robes, claiming the final word as his.

Heero trotted after the warlock, brooding over this last exchange and what to make of it. The silence that had settled between them earlier returned with Heero's anxiety. He wasn't sure what he wanted Duo to say or do in order to ease his uncertainty, a thought that once again left him concerned as to why it even mattered. He told himself it probably had to do with his newfound doubts regarding how necessary animosity between the Alliance and the Horde really was, but the excuse sounded poor to even his desperate conscience.

It was somewhere during that particular thread of thought that Heero heard a sharp snap behind him, like someone stepping on a twig. He jolted and whirled around, narrowing his eyes at the empty landscape before slowly turning back and berating himself for being so edgy. The second time he heard the same noise, his eyes darted every which way, certain that he couldn't be imagining things.

It was then that he noticed a presence next to him, and he would have startled if the dwarf that had suddenly appeared beside him hadn't reached up to give his belt a sturdy yank, a wordless signal to keep quiet. With another motion, he gestured for Heero to bend his ear closer as he whispered, "Ye be needin' some 'elp dispatchin' that ghoul, there?" The dwarf's eyes darted forward, settling on Duo's back.

Heero blinked in surprise at the dwarf, unsure of how to respond. It wasn't until he realized that the pint-sized man was wearing a tabard decorated in Alliance blue and gold that he made the connection that he was a Thelsamar guardsman and that they had accidentally wandered closer to the town's borders than they'd intended to. Then it dawned upon him that the soldier had probably made the obvious assumption that he was following Duo not because they were traveling companions, but because he was trying to ambush him from behind. Hastily, he whispered back, "It's not what it looks like."

The dwarf furrowed his thick, red eyebrows, frowning. "And wot's _tha'_ mean, rogue?"

"It means what I said," Heero hissed. He glanced up at Duo, who was still a good fifty paces ahead, and prayed that he hadn't taken notice of the commotion behind him.

Though the expression on the dwarf's face was mostly hidden behind his bushy beard, it was clear that he was suspicious of the answer. He glanced at Duo as well, and then back at Heero. Then he put a pair of stubby fingers into his mouth and whistled loudly, alerting not only Duo, but a small brigade of dwarven gunners, who had been hiding amid the rocks. "I'll ask ye again," said the dwarf beside Heero, his voice much more deadly-sounding now, "wot's the meanin' o'all this?"

"Don't say a word, Heero," Duo ordered, reaching into his robes to fetch his wand as he stalked back towards the rogue. He had barely pulled it from the depths of his sleeve, when a shot rang out, snapping the wand from Duo's fingers with a lead bullet that only narrowly missed Duo's hand. It smoked menacingly in the grass just behind the warlock, who was glaring into the darkness and cursing the gunner's marksmanship.

"Has he takin' ye prisoner, boy?" the dwarf exclaimed, his fists already clenching in predisposed anger. He grabbed Heero's belt again, shaking one of those fists at Duo as he cried, "Well, ye won't be givin' any sort o' commands to one o' mine anymore, ye blighted abomination!"

Now very annoyed, Heero gave the dwarf a push, disengaging him from his person. "I told you it wasn't what you thought," he snapped, very much at the edge of his patience. "We're just passing through, so if you'll let us go about our business peacefully, we'll be on our way."

But the dwarf was staring at Heero with wide eyes and a slack jaw. "Dinnae tell me that ye be _allies_ with tha'… tha' _thing_!" he gaped, extending a quivering finger towards Duo.

"It is of no consequence to you what the nature of our relationship is," answered Heero, unimpressed by this meaningless row with the dwarf.

"Nay, I be thinkin' 'tis," said the dwarf, crossing his arms resolutely, glaring up at Heero from beneath his thick eyebrows. "Because if ye be consortin' with th' 'Orde, laddie, I'll have to assume ye to be some kind of spy." His voice became grim as he added, "An' we dun take well t'spies in these 'ere parts."

Standing his ground, Heero let out a defiant grunt of acknowledgement and nothing more for the time being. Inwardly, however, his mind was frantically clicking through all sorts of hastily concocted plans in an effort to find one that would effectively free them from this mess. He felt a bit muddled by the task, frustrated that years of training seemed to have been so easily replaced by the moralistic battle he'd been engaged in as of late. He glanced at Duo, hoping that he would find something in the warlock's face that might give him some sort of inspiration, but was only further disappointed.

"Laddie…." The dwarf's tone was the cautionary sort.

Heero then turned his focus back on the fiery-haired dwarf, trying hard to ignore the fact that there were no less than six other dwarves with muskets all trained on either him or Duo. His lips parted to speak, at first without any sound, until the necessity of the situation left him fibbing with a sincerity even the most well practiced liars could only dream about.

"Listen," Heero said flatly, dropping to one knee and speaking in a harsh whisper. His eyes darted back and forth, as if he was going to tell the dwarf something very secret. "If you want to know the whole of it, then I suppose I have no choice." His dark blue irises flicked up at Duo, who was watching the situation unfold with a very cool frown adorning his mangled lips, and then continued, unhindered: "We are spies, yes, but of the Scarlet Crusade. The warlock has been… bought… so that we might soon learn how and when to strike at the Undercity and snuff out the Dark Lady Catalonia once and for all."

The dwarf pursed his lips, scrutinizing Heero as if he was trying to decide whether or not he believed him. At length, he said, "Aye, I'll buy it ye if ye kin show me some proof."

Inwardly, Heero grimaced, a little uncertain of how things might proceed if it came to this, but it was too late to back out now. Resolutely, he stood and strode confidently towards Duo, grasping his fleshy arm by the wrist and rolling up his sleeve to reveal the Scarlet crest that was seared into Duo's chalky skin. Duo gasped in horror, only able to curb his outrage because of his overwhelming shock.

Shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other, his arms still crossed over his chest, the dwarf finally acquiesced, "Alrigh', I'll believe ye – for now." He motioned for the other dwarves to stow their weapons and walked over towards Heero and Duo. "I'll let ye pass through town, but only if ye stay th' night. I want some real time to muddle over wot ye be claimin' here. Because I'd 'ate ta think that I'd let friends of th' Horde leave me sights alive," he added with that deadly edge, only to immediately follow up in a much more jovial manner: "An' I'd 'ate even more so ta think I let friends go the night without a meal an' a bed." The loud guffaw that came after his comment didn't do much to assure Heero that his impulsive plan would succeed.

With that, the dwarf guardsman motioned for the pair of them to follow and called his company to fall in line behind them. They marched quickly to Thelsamar, which was nestled between some hills about a league away from where the dwarves had found the pair of travelers. It was a typical dwarven town, with buildings that were cut into the sides of cliffs and wound their way deep underground. Heero and Duo were escorted into the town's inn and down to the most subterranean room the establishment had to offer.

"Make ye'selves at 'ome, and I'll be sendin' sommat down fer ye to eat," the red-haired dwarf said from the doorway. "If ye be needin' somefin', just 'oller." He closed the door gently, though the series of clicks that came after denoted the turn of a key in the lock. Just outside, the dwarf could be heard muttering to another: "Be keepin' a tight eye on this lot. Even if 'ee is who 'ee says, the Scarlets be no less o' a threat to us than a' army o' orcs."

"A' least they won't be runnin' to yon warchief wi' news o' anythin' they find 'round 'ere," said the other dwarf, presumably the one who would be left outside their nightly accommodation.

"Aye," sighed the first dwarf. "A' least there's that."

Heero was staring at the door, a bit surprised that they had actually bothered to lock them into the room. However, spending the night in an inn with a real bed, even under surveillance, sure beat finding comfort on uneven dirt and pebbles, so he was quick to shrug it off. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, which had a frame hewn of heavy oak and a hand quilted duvet thrown over its down mattress, he tossed off his cloak and started working on his boot buckles.

Meanwhile, however, Duo was standing on the other side of the room, glowering at Heero with ferocious eyes and balled fists. When he couldn't keep his anger bottled any longer, he finally snapped, "I can't believe you!"

Heero stopped halfway through pulling off one of his boots to look up at Duo, a look of genuine confusion on his face. "Can't believe what?" he wondered aloud. "I got us out of a real cockup. We're lucky they didn't kill us on sight."

At first, Duo didn't even say anything, and instead just pulled up his sleeve to reveal the Scarlet mark on his forearm, which was quivering with rage. "We'll be lucky if they don't kill us _now_," he wheezed in a low voice so that the dwarf standing guard outside the room wouldn't hear. "Do you even know what this _means_?"

Heero merely stared back at the warlock as if he were stupid.

Heero's silence was of no consequence, for Duo didn't wait long for Heero to say anything before taking his turn once more. "It is no mere initiation mark," the hissed tirade continued; "The Scarlets brand only their most fanatic and loyal members with an emblem like this – those who belong to the Scarlet Onslaught. Those, who, in life, were…" his voice started to strangle, falling into an even harsher whisper. "Those who were like me."

Despite the gravitas of such a revelation, Heero still was only able to stare back at Duo with indifference. To Heero's logical rational, learning such a thing was hardly a surprise, considering that Duo had already told him that he had been heavily affected by the death of his older brother at the hands of the Scourge. That Duo had been aggrieved enough to make the voyage to Northrend and pledge himself to the most zealous wing of the Scarlet faction was actually probably something he should have already guessed.

"Well, don't you see?" Duo snapped, abruptly yanking his huge sleeve back down to conceal the mark. "If that dwarf knows anything at all about the Onslaught, he'll know you for a liar. And if he knows enough to figure that, he'll want us dead for it."

"You can't be certain of that," Heero finally said, unimpressed by Duo's speech. "All you've managed to convince me of is that your irrationality is akin to what one would expect of someone who would so impulsively join a brigade like that."

Duo snorted, turning his back on Heero as he shook his bony hand in an effort to get Asahi to crawl out. "Well, you've managed to convince _me_ that your ability to empathize has been put so high up on the shelf, you couldn't reach it even if you had the help." He gave his arm a very powerful flick, which sent Asahi flying from the depths of his sleeve and across the room. Stooping, he flattened his skeletal fingers against the wooden floor so that he could scoop Asahi up when the roach came skittering back. "Especially if it means putting down your damn pride for a minute," he grumbled to his pet.

The clunk of Heero's boot against one of the walls startled Duo into turning around again. Heero was staring straight at the black streak his boot had left on the stone upon impact, his shoulders quaking with rage. Duo got to his feet and slowly turned around with Asahi bouncing in his cupped, bony palm.

"I'm tired… of you… always making these… _assumptions_… about me!" Heero bit out between clenched teeth. He finally set his steely gaze on Duo, adding angrily, "Like you _know_ me!" He got up and strode confidently towards Duo, grabbing a fistful of Duo's robes, growling, "You don't know me."

Unexpectedly, it was that dangerous smirk that found its way to Duo's face. "On the contrary," he drawled. "I rather think I know you very, very well." He arched his eyebrows and shrugged, "Not that it's all that hard. As I've said, you're just as you always were."

Heero gave Duo a hearty rattle. "As if you have any idea who I might have once been."

Duo let out a tiny chuckle: "Heh, I'm fairly sure I might know that better than even you." He puffed his chest out, causing Heero to stumble back a little, and jabbed a meaty finger under Heero's chin. "Poor, lonely, little Heero, growing up all by himself in Dalaran," Duo crooned mockingly. "Only one friend, who, try as he might, always seemed to fail at getting Heero to play nice with the other children. Ohh, poor Heero, too oblivious to be a part of the world around him, even when it was foisted upon him at such an early, early age…." Duo clucked deridingly, shaking his head like a dissatisfied teacher.

For Heero, this was going just one step too far, and, in a blind rage, he yanked on Duo's robes in an effort to throw him to the ground. He might have succeeded if Duo hadn't had the wherewithal to shrug out of the garment, leaving the rogue holding an empty robe aloft like a coat tree left standing in the middle of the room. But the trick wasn't enough to phase Heero or his ire. He threw down the purple robe and continued to stalk towards Duo, who was now backed up against the side of the bed, dressed only in a shirt, cloak and trousers. Still, Duo would not be moved by Heero's dissatisfaction, and was only prompted to egg him on further.

"Silence!" roared Heero a bit too loudly, shoving Duo backwards and sending him toppling back onto the mattress. He leapt after him, straddling the warlock's hips as he raised his fist menacingly. "How dare you talk about my childhood like that," he growled, ready to give Duo the beat down of a lifetime and hardly caring of how dishonourable such a thing would be. "You weren't _there_; you don't know what I was like when I was growing up! You don't know the things I struggled with: the things _I _had – what _I_ lost!"

Giving in to his frustration, Heero let his fist descend upon Duo. The punch never met its mark, though, for just as Heero's knuckles were about to connect with Duo's nose, the warlock reached up and blocked with his fleshy hand. Releasing Asahi from his skeletal grip, Duo then reached up with his other hand to turn the tables and force Heero onto his back, which he managed after only a modest bit of wrestling. Looming over Heero on all fours as he pinned him down, Duo retorted, "Wrong again, my prince. I was there. After all, I knew Dalaran in my youth as well."

Heero would have let some other string of angry words fly from his mouth if he hadn't noticed something else that far superceded the argument in every way. Just over his face, dangling from a chain about Duo's neck, glinted a medallion shaped into the emblem of Dalaran's Kirin Tor mages. But more importantly than that, this particular medallion was slightly misshapen by a deep scar, as though a knife had been driven through the center of it, and it was then that Heero made a startling realization. He took his eyes away from the medallion and refocused them on Duo, unable to believe that he never before recognized the face he thought only existed in his memory.

"Heero?" Duo questioned, wondering why Heero was now looking at him as if he were staring at a ghost.

But Heero wasn't listening, too lost in the whirlwind of emotions that had suddenly kicked up inside his chest. Instead, he could only reach up to touch the leathery flesh of Duo's face as he whispered, "By the Light, it's you…."

TBC


	12. Dalaran

**Title: **_**The Forsaken**_

**Author: **Link Worshiper

**Pairings:** 1=2, maybe some others if I feel like it

**Rating: **PG-13

**Stuff:** Fantasy AU, fluff, sap, language, adventure, WoW nerdiness

**Disclaimer:** I own Gundam Wing action figures? Warcraft and its lore belongs to Blizzard Entertainment. Both things are being played with out of fangirl love.

Thanks to danse and Natea for the once over. Despite the fact this is part of Natea's birthday present, I still needed her to fill me in on the Alliance history they don't teach us on Horde, so thanks for that also =P

-

Sorry this took forever to post. I've been in the process of moving out of my mom's house for the past month or so, plus job hunting, so I haven't had as much time to work on fan projects as before. Things seem to be settling down a bit, though, so I think I can get back to writing a bit more regularly. Thanks to everyone who's been reading and reviewing. I hope you continue to enjoy the story.

-

_Part XII_

_Dalaran_

-

The first time Duo Blackscythe ever came to Dalaran, he was hardly a boy of five, loitering on the steps of Krasus' Landing with his brother a few nights before the Feast of the Winter Veil was to begin. He had one arm wrapped around the older youth's leg, the other extended upwards so that he might grip the hem of the blanket that swaddled the wailing infant his brother held close to his chest. His name had not been Blackscythe then, or even Duo for that matter, but rather some other title that had been given to him by parents he had been long since forgotten. Remembering that blustery night, Duo couldn't help but feel detached from the memory, as if he were watching someone else's life when he recalled the time when he had been alive.

After waiting in the snow for what seemed like an eternity, a mage clad in the purple and gold regalia of the Kirin Tor came scurrying out from the main gate to meet the brothers, a hand pressed to the crème cowl to keep the wind from blowing it away into the night. As she neared, Duo's older brother spoke directly to her, wasting no time with formalities: "Sister Helen, I presume?" When she nodded, he said, "About time. We'd have survived orcs only to die of cold if you'd taken any longer to meet us out here."

At the mention of orcs, Helen gasped, covering her mouth. "Where do you lads hail from?" she asked fearfully. She had heard that armies of green-skinned warriors had been aiming to satisfy their bloodlust with a string of merciless attacks on humans.

"Stormwind," said Duo's older brother bluntly. His answer chilled Helen's blood more than even the howling blizzard that whipped around them. "When the Horde razed the city, we ran."

"And the lady gave us her baby!" Duo chimed in eagerly, giving the swaddling blanket a tug. The sudden draft of cold that hit the baby caused it to let out a piteous wail. The sound seemed to startle Helen, who hadn't realized until that moment that they had an infant with them. Instinctively, she reached out to take it from the older brother.

"Just who are you boys, anyway?" Helen asked, pressing the crying baby to her breast and rocking him gently.

"Oh, apologies. Our father used to speak of you. I'm Solo, and this is my little brother," he replied with a slight bow, extricating his younger sibling from his leg so that he might present him to the mage more appropriately, though Duo still seemed more concerned about the baby's welfare than introducing himself properly. He jabbed a finger at the wailing bundle in Helen's arms and added, "And that's Heero!"

Grimly, Solo finished by saying, "And as far as we know, we are the only survivors of the Horde's assault on Stormwind."

-

Years passed, and Stormwind was eventually restored to its former glory under a new king, the young Milliardo Wrynn, but the three refugees had found a new home in Dalaran and had no desire to go back. Their reasons for this were all as different from the next as each boy was from the other: for instance, Solo had found a calling working with the younger children at the orphanage that had reared him and his brother, while Duo had shown interest in studying magic, and had since become and acolyte of the Kirin Tor.

Meanwhile, Heero, who had been immediately swept up by a doting, motherly Helen the night he had arrived in Dalaran, simply accepted his existence for what it was, completely unaware there had ever been anything else. Helen had never quite found a way to properly explain Heero's rather unique circumstances, so she, quite simply, never told him the truth of it. Heero, of course, had the sense to know that he was an extremely fortunate orphan, but he had no reason to question beyond that, and quite frankly, didn't care to. Luck wasn't something he liked to risk upsetting, as he was certain he was already on shaky ground with it as it was.

And yet, despite a childhood spent in the cradle of Dalaran's elite, Heero couldn't help but feel something was out of joint. By most standards, Heero's life was not dull, but he often found himself dragging on through his days mechanically, finding his routine disinteresting and passionless. He studied magic because he had been raised in the arms of Kirin Tor mages, and though he was technically proficient in his learning, he privately thought such meditative teachings were not something for which he felt naturally inclined. Proof of this could be found easily in his best and only friend, Quatre, whose innate abilities were only accentuated by his passion for the craft.

Not that Quatre's life was exactly ideal either. He was the son of the High Archmage, the Kirin Tor leader to whom everyone in Dalaran looked to for guidance. The pressure that fell on Quatre to excel and follow in his father's footsteps was immense, but Quatre secretly harboured a desire to follow the path of Elune, something that would surely upset all the expectations most people had for him. Heero empathized with this torn feeling, thinking it rather similar to his own situation, and thus found a confidant and fast friend in Quatre that he had yet to discover anywhere else.

"Perhaps you should turn to Elune as well," Quatre suggested one day as the two of them shared sandwiches by the fountain in Runeweaver Square. He chewed thoughtfully and swallowed before adding, "The way of the Moon might help you find peace."

Heero, who had just finished lamenting over his morning casting class, pressed his cheek into his palm. "I'm not sure I would make a very good priest, Quatre," he sighed, staring down at the rosy cobblestones beneath their feet. "It's possibly more meditative than even being a mage."

"I meant, you could be a paladin," said Quatre, taking another large bite out of his sandwich. "You're still young enough, I think. And then you could at least learn swords and polearms and such."

"Maybe," said Heero with another sigh, though the suggestion was actually something worth considering. "But then I would still be disappointing Helen."

Quatre took a moment to finish the last bit of his food and then reached for the flagon of berry juice that sat between them. After taking a long sip, he said, "Look, Heero, I know you feel the need to please her since she's just short of being your mother, but I really doubt she would stop you if you expressed your feelings about it to her."

"Easy for you to say," Heero retorted morosely. "At least your father will still be your father, even if you do end up a priest instead of a mage. Helen has no reason to stay attached to me in that case."

"Now you're being ridiculous," chided Quatre, pursing his lips. "Just because Helen adopted you doesn't mean that she loves you any less than she might if you were actually her blood."

Heero merely grunted and stared off down the street, idly watching the passersby with blank eyes. Most of them carried on with their business without a care, and Heero found himself secretly resenting them for it. He didn't mind being adopted, but it sometimes bothered him that he didn't really know who he was. Becoming a mage almost seemed as arbitrary as his name, which was one he couldn't even be certain was actually his. Mulling over the thought, he distractedly reached for his own sandwich, which had been lying beside him, still wrapped in the linen Quatre had tied it up in after he'd made it.

Only to find it wasn't there. Heero's hand closed around air, and he suddenly snapped to attention, glaring down at the place where he'd put the sandwich when he'd sat down. Looking up, his eyes swung around the square, glaring suspiciously at everyone nearby and wondering which one of them had the gall to steal from him. Quatre stared at him, a little mortified and confused as to what had set Heero off.

Heero was hardly paying attention to Quatre, though, especially when he caught sight of the culprit, who was indiscreetly unwrapping Heero's sandwich to take a hearty bite. He had longish, brown hair, which hung around his face in messy chunks, and wore the robes of a Kirin Tor acolyte – something that just served to annoy Heero even further, considering his recent train of thought. Angrily, he got to his feet and stalked over towards the thief. "Just who do you think you are?" Heero demanded to know as he approached, catching the longhaired mage apprentice off guard.

Undisturbed by the fact that he'd just been caught, the acolyte let a lazy smile cross his face. "Oh, was this yours?" he drawled, holding the sandwich out towards Heero.

"Yes," Heero hissed as he snatched it back, far from amused.

"Ohh," the acolyte hummed, lifting his now-empty hands up like he was offering a truce. "Didn't look to me like you were going to eat it. I hate seeing food go to waste."

"Well, I _was_," snapped Heero. Then, without another word on the matter, he marched back over towards Quatre and the fountain, careless of what the acolyte thought of his abrupt attitude. He sat down with a huff and moodily lifted the sandwich to his mouth, tearing into it more out of resentment than hunger as Quatre continued to stare. He shot his blond friend a look, squishing an agitated, "_What?_" around a mouthful of food.

"Nothing," Quatre answered, promptly closing his mouth. His wide, blue eyes darted in the direction of the kleptomaniac acolyte, who had taken up residence on one of the benches that surrounded the perimeter of the square, and offered a small shrug of apology.

The sound of Heero's voice sharply drew Quatre's attention once more: "Do you _know_ him?" Heero demanded, glaring sternly over his sandwich.

"You mean Father Maxwell's boy?" Quatre asked, nodding his head in the direction of the acolyte, who, in turn, waved back with a smug look on his face that Heero did not appreciate. "Yes, I know him. A little," Quatre went on, ignoring Heero's reaction. "He works in the library during my history classes, anyway. I see him cataloguing books all the time."

"I didn't know the master of the orphanage had any children of his own," was all Heero drew from Quatre's description. "I thought that was the reason he took the reins of the orphanage at all."

Quatre shrugged again, this time with genuine uncertainty. "Maybe he decided that with all the children that come and go through his doors, it was time he found some to truly call his own," Quatre surmised. "He _is_ getting rather old, and from what I hear, the older brother is being groomed to take his place…."

Heero took in this information, nodding only after he had processed it all with his usual, meticulous precision. He glanced up to reexamine the acolyte, a little annoyed to find himself staring at an empty bench. The sentiment was short lived, though, and he soon returned to his sandwich and his prior conversation with Quatre about their studies.

Little did he realize that his relationship with Duo Blackscythe was far from over.

-

Hallow's End had come and gone, and it seemed like Brewfest had barely arrived before the first flurries of the cold seasons were heralding the approach of the Winter Veil. The snowiest time of the year was always a somewhat solemn time for Heero, despite the joyous holiday spirit that pervaded the annual celebrations. Instead of focusing on the traditions of the Winter Veil, Heero was busier contemplating the childhood he hardly remembered, desperate that he might one day draw out some detail that had escaped him all these years.

Unfortunately for Heero, Quatre was probably the biggest proponent of Winter Veil festivities in all of Azeroth. Without fail, every year, Heero ended up being dragged to this or that holiday party or dinner, forced to feign enjoyment for the sake of his friend. The moment Winter Veil lights and garlands started adorning the streets of Dalaran, Quatre was already talking about gift giving and dancing. Heero wished he could take no part in any of it, hardly one for social extravaganzas of any kind, but he also knew his participation in such things was very important to Quatre, so he never protested even when Quatre pushed him into situations that made him uncomfortable.

This particular year, there was to be a grand ball hosted by the Kirin Tor for some of the most elite figures in Azeroth. As the son of the Archmage, Quatre was, of course, expected to be there, and he was determined to make sure Heero would be as well. "Please, Heero," Quatre begged as they sat together in the library, studying, "if you go to this ball, I promise I won't ask you to any other parties for the rest of the year."

Heero frowned. He was willing to go to please Quatre, but he was wary. "What is so important about _this_ particular ball?" he wanted to know, not even bothering to look up from the book he was reading to ask the question.

Quatre balked a little, unsure of how to explain. "Nothing," he finally said. "I just think it would be good for you. Maybe you'll meet someone new."

"Are you saying you are tired of my company?" Heero asked, his flat tone doing well to mask his concern over such a thought.

"No!" Quatre exclaimed, growing flustered. "It's just, well… you know, so many people from kingdoms all over the world will be there. It might help expand your horizons a little…."

The frown still had not left Heero's face. "I think I'm rather well-rounded as it is," he said, not quite seeing Quatre's point. "Besides, what's the point of meeting someone from another land if it's doubtful I'd see them again?"

Quatre let out a huff of exasperation, the first real hint of his toil to get Heero to be more social. "Being well-rounded is more than just knowing the things you find in the library backwards and forwards, you know," he said, sounding a little weary. "I mean, there's a distinct difference between _reading_ about the elves of Silvermoon and actually meeting one."

Heero suddenly snapped shut the book he was reading. "I don't see why you're pressing this so adamantly. You know I'll end up going anyway," he snapped, getting to his feet with a fiery glower in his eyes. Clearly annoyed, he stalked off towards the bookcases as if he meant to return the tome in his hand, though his true intent was actually just to find a little seclusion amid the shelves.

Unfortunately for Heero, solitude was not to be his. He had no sooner gotten far enough into the labyrinth of bookshelves to be removed from Quatre, when he found himself stumbling nose-first into someone else.

"Hey, watch it!" came an annoyed grunt as Heero withdrew with a muttered apology. He looked up, half expecting to see some annoyed scholar preparing to berate him for his carelessness, and was surprised to find himself met with none other than the acolyte who he would eventually know as Duo Blackscythe.

"Well, what do we have here?" said the acolyte, a lopsided grin on his face. He stood with a hand on each hip, a stack of books hovering magically at his side. "Heero Yuy, isn't it? The magic student who finds spellcasting a bore."

The only response Heero could muster was the ability to let his jaw fall a bit slack. He was so amazed that this stranger seemed to know who he was, much less his name, that he forgot to take offense at the jibe. Certainly, he had seen him around, suddenly taking notice of his existence ever since the incident in Runeweaver Square, but he didn't know much more about him than what he'd casually observed from afar. He couldn't even supply a name to call the acolyte in return.

"Heh, don't say everything all at once," the acolyte quipped in the stead of Heero's silence. Snapping his fingers, he beckoned the book from Heero's hand and called it to his own with an effortless spell. "_'The War of the Ancients'_," he read aloud from the book's spine, that amused expression still firmly in place. "Doesn't look like something that's going to help you much on your exams." He tossed the book into the air, and, as if guided by a string, it flew up and landed neatly atop the stack of magically floating books. Then, turning towards the bookshelf, he looked up and summoned another tome from one of the top shelves, catching it as it dropped from is perch. Handing the new book, which was entitled _'A Guide to Elemental Sorcery'_, to Heero, he said, "This should be much more useful, I think."

Dubiously taking the book, Heero thanked him without a hint of amusement in his tone. He was well aware that history books weren't going to help him with passing the biannual exams that were fast approaching, but he couldn't help but find more interest in the lore and campaigns of wars past than the tedium of focused casting. It was hard for him to tell if the acolyte also knew that as well, or if he was genuinely trying to make a recommendation. Somehow, Heero had a feeling his initial instinct was the correct one.

"So," the longhaired acolyte went on, mounting one of the nearby bookcase ladders, his floating stack of books in tow, "what brings you to the library today, Heero?"

"Accompanying a friend, I guess," Heero answered, not really in the mood for explanations as he watched him climb the ladder and, one by one, return the books in his stack to their proper place with a flourish of his hand.

"Not doing a very good job, are you," the acolyte rejoined with a smirk Heero couldn't see from the floor.

"I needed a break," Heero deadpanned.

"What, from not studying?" the acolyte asked with a laugh. He flicked one hand to the left, commanding the rolling ladder he was perched upon to slide over a couple of feet. "You'll never become an acolyte with an attitude like that, even if you _do_ have connections with the Kirin Tor."

"Maybe I don't want to be!" Heero snapped, unsure where his acerbity was coming from. Much to his furthered annoyance, all the acolyte could respond with was a chuckle and, "I didn't think so."

Pulling the last book of the stack from the air to manually return it to the shelf, the acolyte slid down the length of the ladder and alighted on the floor. Crossing his arms and leading against the bookcases, he arched his eyebrows and asked, "So let me ask again, what are you _really_ doing here."

Sensing the acolyte's urge to play this kind of game with him, Heero said, "Here in the library or _here_?"

"Here," said the other with a lackadaisical roll of his shoulders. "Though, really, I suppose it's an unfair question: I mean, after all, why is anyone ever _anywhere_, you know?"

Heero sucked in a breath at the train of thought the acolyte's comment conjured: never truly knowing who he was had led him to such existentialist thinking on more than one occasion, but having such things voiced was something altogether different. Deciding to neatly avert the mention of such a topic, Heero said, "Like I told you, I was here with a friend, until I decided I needed some space."

"Ahh," the acolyte hummed; "And now, you're here with me."

"Not by my choosing," Heero retorted sharply.

"Such things are not always for us to choose," the acolyte shrugged again. Then, the mischievous grin returned to his lips and he added, "Or perhaps t'was Fate did that."

Heero had a mind to argue back, to say something snarky about choosing to walk away, but something else in the back of his mind left him pondering the acolyte's words instead. He got the distinct feeling that there was more to the other man than what met the eye, but he wasn't quite sure he wanted to stick around long enough to delve beyond such appearances. "Who are you," Heero asked, not cutting any corners. "Really."

At Heero's abrupt question, the acolyte seemed a bit taken aback. "Is conversation really such a crime in your book?" he wondered, shaking his head incredulously at Heero.

"It is when you presume too much," Heero hissed back. He hoped his prickly demeanor would eventually scare the acolyte off, but was sorely disappointed to find that this tactic, which usually worked so well with other people, was not effective here at all. Heero found the other man's tenacity extremely infuriating, and decided to let the longhaired mage know it: "I don't need you acting like you know me so well! Such things frustrate me enough with the friends I already have, much less _you_."

"A wonder you have any with an attitude like that," the acolyte answered coolly. "How is it that you even managed it at all?"

Heero's rejoinder was crisp and immediate. "Circumstance," he said, crossing his arms and frowning at him.

Much to Heero's chagrin, his succinct answer only caused the acolyte to burst out into laughter. "And this isn't circumstance enough for you?" he wanted to know between wheezing guffaws.

Heero looked away to hide his faltering expression, feeling a bit meeker that his steely demeanor seemed to have no effect on the other man whatsoever. The whole thing made him incredibly anxious. "I barely know you," he tried to protest. "I don't even know what you're called."

A terrifyingly mischievous smile laced the acolyte's features, and he said, "Well, perhaps I'll tell you if you make the effort." Casually, he added, "Perhaps we could meet again, and we could talk some more."

Something enticing glinted in his eyes, though Heero couldn't say exactly what it was. All he knew was that the swallow that fell down his throat hurt, and that he was vaguely intrigued by the mysterious air to the acolyte's invitation. The notion didn't last particularly long, however, and he was quick to snap himself back to attention. Straightening, he said, "I'll think about it." With that, he quickly turned on his heel and marched back towards the place where he had left Quatre and his studies, adamantly refusing to even glance back at the acolyte and the triumphant smile he was sure to be wearing on his face.

But just as he was about to reemerge from the bookshelf maze and rejoin Quatre, Heero faltered when he realized that Quatre was no longer alone. Sitting with him in the chair that Heero had vacated was a girl with honey blond hair, chatting casually with Quatre. She wore the gold, white and violet robes of a magic student, suggesting that she was a friend of Quatre's from one of his classes. Heero thought she looked vaguely familiar, as if he might have seen her around, but he still had no idea who she was, and felt uncomfortable intruding on a conversation he was very likely to exclude him. Still, he couldn't help but overhear snatches of what they were saying to each other, curious as to what sorts of things Quatre spoke about with his less difficult acquaintances.

"Well, did you find out?" asked the girl, leaning her chin in one hand. She sounded excited to hear whatever news Quatre had about her query.

"Sort of," replied Quatre, leaning back in his chair. "I didn't get a definite answer, but it seems more likely than the last time I tried."

The girl's shoulders slumped slightly, but she didn't allow it to quell her hopeful demeanor. "I really appreciate you going to the trouble," she said. "It's not something anyone else is fit to do, I think. He seems much more willing to listen to you than most, anyway."

"Well, he can be a bit difficult," Quatre mused with a shrug. "But that's not to say he's completely unreasonable. I think he'll at least go, so even if you don't get to escort him, you could at least have a few dances."

The girl sighed thankfully. "One dance is all I want," she said, sounding a bit wistful.

It was about then that Heero had an epiphany and realized that they were talking about _him_. No wonder Quatre had wanted him to go to the Winter Veil Ball so desperately. Obviously, this friend of Quatre's wanted to accompany him, and Quatre was working hard to facilitate her. Heero frowned at the notion, feeling no more comfortable with it than he did at the prospect of getting to know the acolyte better. As far as he was concerned, the ball was an occasion to do no more than put on his nice tunic and slosh back a couple glasses of fine wine. He would go to please Quatre, but there was only so much he was willing to push for such an occasion. He would have to devise a way to bring this situation up to his blond friend as soon as the girl was gone. Anxiously, he waited for her to leave, more than certain that he did not want to make his presence known while she was there.

"Well, thank you so much, Quatre, dear," the girl said presently, rising to her feet. She leaned over the table to take up Quatre's hands and kiss him on each cheek. "I really appreciate what you're doing for me. I just… well, it just seems like no matter what I do, I can't even get him to notice me, much less become closer to him."

"It's no trouble at all, Relena," Quatre smiled warmly. "I like to think that, sometimes, all Heero needs is a push in the right direction. He can be rather single minded at times, and the blinders he wears keeps him from thinking about anything that's not routine."

"I'd like to hope I could become a part of that routine," answered Relena, exuding a confidence that furthered Heero's discomfort. He didn't appreciate the way they were speaking about him as if they knew exactly how he'd think or feel about the whole thing. He wondered if his reaction would have been the same if their plans had continued without his knowledge.

He had a sneaking suspicion that it would.

-

TBC


	13. The Feast of the Winter Veil

**Title: **_**The Forsaken**_

**Author: **Link Worshiper

**Pairings:** 1=2, maybe some others if I feel like it

**Rating: **PG-13

**Stuff:** Fantasy AU, fluff, sap, language, adventure, WoW nerdiness

**Disclaimer:** I own Gundam Wing action figures? Warcraft and its lore belongs to Blizzard Entertainment. Both things are being played with out of fangirl love.

Thanks to danse and Natea for the once over. Despite the fact this is part of Natea's birthday present, I still needed her to fill me in on the Alliance history they don't teach us on Horde, so thanks for that also =P

--

_Part XIII_

_The Feast of the Winter Veil _

--

By the time the minstrels had struck up the evening's fourth waltz, Heero was already deep into almost that many glasses of wine. He wasn't drunk, but he felt a pleasant numbness that was keeping him placid as the Winter Veil Ball progressed. He supposed for what it was, it was nice – perhaps even mildly enjoyable – but that was probably a conclusion he'd found at the bottom of one of his flagons. To that end, he was glad that Quatre had taken the reins on the social aspect of being there, because it meant that all he had to do was follow him around and shake the hand of whoever he was introduced to. It was an acceptably simple routine.

Unfortunately, Heero's easy compliance wasn't meant to last the entire night. Ever since he had gotten dressed for the evening, the memory of the conversation he had overheard between Quatre and his friend, Relena, was nagging from the back of his mind. So when he caught sight of the lady in question amongst the other partygoers, it was with trepidation that Heero trailed after Quatre, who was casually making his way towards her. He wasn't sure if Quatre had also noticed her or if the blonde was going to pretend like their eventual meeting was pure coincidence, but Heero was wary: he eyed one of the passing servers, wondering if it would be a good idea to partake in another glass of wine. He had barely decided to follow through on that plan when he felt a tug at his sleeve.

"Heero, I would like you to meet a friend of mine," Quatre was saying as Heero turned around, unhappy that the interruption had let that fresh goblet of wine slip away. He glowered, even as Relena started to introduce herself.

"My name is Relena Proudmoore," she said, offering a friendly hand that was promptly ignored as Heero quickly strode after the escaping server. "What's… yours…?" she found herself asking the empty space where Heero had just been standing.

Quatre let out a sigh so despondent, his entire frame seemed to droop. "By Elune, Relena, I am so sorry. These sorts of functions aren't really his forte, but I hardly expected something as severe as that…."

But Relena was hardly listening to him. With a resolve she had inherited from her father, the Grand Admiral of the Alliance navy, she strode confidently in the direction Heero had gone, her blue gown fluttering behind her as she moved. Quatre stared after her, his jaw slightly loose: he couldn't decide if such a presumptuous move would bode well.

"A little fire to her, isn't there," came a new voice from Quatre's left. The blonde turned to see the speaker, surprised to find himself standing next to the most regal looking elf he had ever laid eyes on. Even by elf standards, this newcomer was extremely handsome, with long, red bangs that swept over half his forehead and the most startling green eyes Quatre had ever seen.

Swallowing a lump he hadn't realized had risen in his throat, Quatre gathered his composure and replied, "Yes, well, she has always been one to pursue the things she wants with unspeakable precision." He laughed, albeit a bit awkwardly, as he added, "It almost leaves me to wonder why she had asked for my help in speaking to him in the first place."

"Ah, I see," mused the elf, though it was hard to tell exactly what it was he was seeing. "I trust your evening is proceeding with more success than hers," he went on, nodding towards Relena.

Quatre straightened, unsure how to take the comment. "Whatever do you mean?" he asked, feeling a little insulted on Relena's behalf.

The elf turned to face Quatre, quirking one eyebrow as a tiny smirk flicked the corner of his mouth. "Can't you tell? He's half the world away," he said. "She'll leave this place heartbroken, I can assure you." Then he shrugged, adding, "But I suppose everyone needs to learn the lesson somehow."

Quatre furrowed his brow. "I still don't quite see what you're getting at," he pressed, unsure why he was having such a hard time looking the stranger dead on. There must have been something in those sleepy eyes that kept Quatre feeling so anxious, something the blonde found himself troubling over more than the subject at hand. It was then that he realized that the elf was giving him a cursory once-over that clenched at Quatre's self-esteem and reddened his cheeks.

"Who would have thought that a flushing human could look so becoming," the elf commented drolly, fruitlessly trying to push his long bangs out of his face. Then, with that, he offered Quatre a gentlemanly bow and disappeared into the crowd with a swoosh of his cloak almost as mysteriously as he'd come.

"What was that?" Quatre whispered to himself, almost too stunned to even assess the encounter logically. "And who…?"

Meanwhile, Relena found that Heero had not wandered too far away. He stood by a large window, contentedly sipping a new glass of wine and leaning against the wall in such a way that told other people he wasn't interested in their company. Relena completely ignored all of that and brazenly reached out to tap Heero's shoulder.

Startled, Heero nearly dropped his goblet as he spun around, his free hand zooming for the decorative knife he wore on his belt. With the glower immediately returning to his face, Heero snapped angrily, "Can't you see I want to be left by myself?"

Refusing to allow herself to be intimidated by Heero's affront, she merely replied, "What I can see is that you would rather be a hundred other places right now, but I think that since you're here instead, you might as well make the most of it." Then she dropped a perfect curtsy and said, "So would you please give me the pleasure of this dance?"

Heero didn't immediately reply, surprised to find himself reassessing his opinion of this girl. He still wasn't eager to involve himself with the festivities, but he had to admit that he found Relena's determination admirable, if a bit too forward. He decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. "Fine," he said curtly, pointedly setting his glass down on the nearby windowsill and offering her a stiff elbow.

Heero had been taught to dance by Helen, and though he was technically skillful, his lack of enthusiasm was apparent in the mechanical way he guided Relena across the floor. Relena didn't seem to notice, too elated that she was able to share such a romantic moment with Quatre's handsome friend. Her heart thrummed in her chest as she mulled over what she should say to him, all the while trying to catch his elusive eyes.

Reluctance was probably the best way to describe what coloured Heero's ginger touch. There was something intimidating about meeting her gaze straight on, though, and he tried his best to avoid it. If he looked at her, it was because that was what one was supposed to do when he danced with someone else, but he couldn't suppress his wandering attention, even as her fingers curled more tightly into the fabric of his tunic. Like Relena, he also wondered if he should say something, though the sorts of things he was considering were far different from what was passing through her mind. It was with a sense of trepidation that he realized that she had laid her head on his shoulder.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice flat. His stomach was churning, but he couldn't tell if it was because of the wine or anxiety.

She drew back, an earnest expression in her eyes. "Is something wrong?" she wondered, concerned that she'd upset him somehow.

Heero faltered, unsure how to word his discomfort with the proximity. He couldn't tell if it was her, or if it was something in his own heart that made him want to recoil, but he knew something wasn't right about it. "You lean on me with the helplessness of a kitten up a tree," he finally said in his best effort to express these things, though it was a pretty feeble attempt. Truthfully, her demeanor had almost nothing to do with Heero's apprehension.

Astounded by such a comment, Relena could only blink at him, her lips parted in surprise. Despite Heero's callous attitude, she couldn't help the butterflies hovering in her stomach and tickling her heart. Shaking her head, she begged him to understand how she felt. "It's as though you've had me by a string since the moment I first saw you," she said, pressing his hand to her chest and holding it fast. "Can't you see how hopelessly in love with you I am? That's why I'm following you."

It was Heero's turn to be left in a state of disbelief after such an admission. Quickly, he tried to pull his hand away, afraid of what might come of leaving it in Relena's custody for another moment. "I don't know what to tell you," he finally admitted. "You say you love me, but I hardly know who you are."

"But that doesn't matter, don't you see?" Relena suddenly exclaimed, passion building in her chest. She clasped her gloved hands over her breast, trying hard not to let her emotions get the better of her. Reigning in control of her voice, she whispered, "Sometimes, you just know the moment you encounter someone. And I… I knew it had to be you. I can feel it."

"You're a fool," Heero said succinctly, not even taking a moment to consider how harsh his reaction was.

Unexpectedly, a small chuckle escaped Relena's mouth as she hung her head, her honey coloured hair falling around her face as she murmured, "Yes, I know. But that's how it goes when a woman loves a man."

Heero was not inclined to agree. "What a waste of thought," he said tartly, his dancing lending itself to a more abrupt pattern as he continued to lead Relena across the floor. "You play a silly, one-sided game."

Relena tried to catch Heero's distant eyes with the pleading expression locked in hers. "Haven't you ever been in love?" she asked sympathetically, almost as if she pitied him. "Don't you believe in romance?" Her arms tightened around his neck as she leaned in, her eyelids fluttering over her blue irises. "If only you'd take a chance on me," she whispered, suddenly very close.

Heero drew back almost immediately, threatening to drop her with the speed at which he recoiled. "But it still feels wrong," he gasped, a hint of desperation riddling his tone. There was no mistaking that she'd almost managed to kiss him, but it was the fear that had suddenly consumed him that had instilled such an immediate urge to flee. He wanted to break free of this fruitless dance and escape, to be somewhere quiet and solitary so that he might gather his thoughts and better understand what had transpired. Quickly, he pushed her away, careless of decorum.

Relena felt as if she had been dropped over the edge of a tall cliff, falling even as she stood by herself in the middle of the dance floor, watching Heero slowly retreat. "So cruel," she murmured, her voice drowned out by the merry waltz that was still twirling around her. She barely even noticed the tears that had started to dribble down her cheeks, still too focused on Heero to let him go, even as he continued to slip further away. Things had seemed so magical scant moments before: it made her wonder what had caused the pieces to fall apart like this.

For his part, Heero was suddenly too overwhelmed with a sense of vertigo to concern himself about Relena, and quickly found his defense mechanisms kicking into overdrive. The huge ballroom felt much more crowded than it had earlier, and it only made him want to get out of there even faster. Grabbing a final glass of wine for the road, Heero made a beeline for the exit, desperate to escape to wintery gardens outside.

That place was dangerous, he told himself as he picked up his pace, careless of the people he was elbowing through to get out sooner. He felt as if he'd just avoided a harrowing death, nervously looking around as if peril was still at his heels even as he left the building and alighted upon a bench in the neighbouring courtyard. His ears were filled with the splash of a nearby fountain's bubbling water, a welcome change from the dull roar that had purveyed the ballroom, and he was pleased to find that focusing on it did well to calm his twisting innards. A light snowfall began to flurry around him, adding to his newfound tranquility. He let out a thankful sigh of relief and sipped at his wine.

He had just reached a moment of perfect inner peace, when an unexpected shout filled the air and ripped him from his calm state of mind. Eyes snapping open, he angrily looked around, frustrated that he couldn't find a single moment for himself. There was a chorus of laughter echoing through the streets, easily finding its way to his once quiet spot, and it didn't take long for the unsurprising culprit to reveal himself. "I should have known," Heero growled as none other than the longhaired acolyte from the library appeared near the fountain.

The acolyte easily heard the comment, and upon recognizing Heero's voice, turned in his direction with that lazy smile of his in place. "Well, look who we have here: an ice prince dressed gaily for the ball, yet alone in the snow," he drawled, swaggering towards Heero with the gait of someone who had perhaps had one flagon of mead too many. "Staying up late to see if Father Winter has a gift for you?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Heero scoffed, sniffing in the other direction even as the Kirin Tor apprentice neared his bench. He tossed back a rather indulgent gulp of wine and added, "I haven't the time for such wives' tales."

Grinning, the longhaired mage plopped down beside Heero, careless of the snowy crust that had built up since it had started to flurry. "Well, then we'll just have to find a more engaging way to whittle away your hours," he said, hoping Heero would have the depravity to fill in the insinuated gaps. With a suggestive elbow into Heero's side, he goaded, "What say you, my prince?"

Heero harrumphed. "I say, take yourself and your knavish ways far from my person," he grouched. "I just want to be alone."

With a roll of his eyes, the acolyte waved off Heero's command as if it were nothing more than a passing whim. "Nay, I doubt that. No one ever _really_ wants to be alone – especially during Winter Veil," the mage said, combing a few loose tendrils of hair behind one ear. "Or at least, no one should be."

Annoyance finally flared up within in Heero, a culmination of all the frustrations he had undergone that night. Expressing more emotion than he had probably displayed around anyone other than Quatre, he raged, "How dare you assume to know how I think or feel? It's such presumptuousness that makes me wish for solitude at all!" He lifted the wine glass to his lips for another long taste.

"Who is being presumptuous?" the acolyte asked with a shrug. "I am merely stating what I have found to be true in my own experience. I do have a few years on you; I think I may have learned a thing or two in my time!" With that, he reached for Heero's goblet, easily plucking it from his numb fingers. He wrinkled his nose at the scent of it as he brought it nearer to his mouth, quickly returning it to Heero: "Ugh, such fancy brews don't suit me at all."

Heero hardly noticed the proffered glass, too busy trying to make sense of his companion's eccentricities with a furrowed brow. It did not occur to him how strange his own behaviour seemed to most others, instead more focused on the fact that the acolyte was not put off by the airs that most other people found troublesome in him. Despite the easiness in the young mage's attitude, Heero was prickled by the other's flippant ignorance of it all. He swallowed, suddenly overwhelmed by a chill that had nothing to do with the coldness.

Arching his eyebrows, the acolyte retracted the goblet and swirled it beneath his nose again, as if trying to decide if he ought to indulge in it after all. He smirked at Heero when he came to a decision about it, pointedly putting his lips on the spot where Heero had been sipping. "Perhaps an acquired taste," he assessed afterwards. "But maybe its aberrance is part of the appeal." With that, he knocked back the rest of the wine in one gulp, indulgently allowing it to dribble around his chin as he did so.

It was then that Heero noticed that the acolyte had planted his hand on the bench beneath Heero's cloak, his wrist pressing into the small of his back. Unlike Relena's hands, which had sent waves of neurosis throughout his body, the feel of the mage apprentice's forearm created a sensation of a different nature. He still felt a similar anxiety, but where he had been uncomfortable before, he now felt something more akin to anticipation radiating from the acolyte's touch. It left him trying to ponder out what the difference was.

So lost was Heero in his mental reasoning that he was almost alarmed when he realized that the other had leaned in closer, practically sighing into his ear. "What are your Winter Veil plans now, my prince?" he asked, his voice strangely husky.

The sweet scent of mead was fresh on the acolyte's breath, almost as intoxicating to Heero as the alcohol itself might have been. His blue eyes darted in the acolyte's direction, catching his hooded expression. Another shiver crumbled down Heero's spine, and he absently moved to tighten his cloak around his shoulders, inadvertently pressing his companion's arm more tightly against his back. He tensed.

Noticing Heero's discomfort, the Kirin Tor apprentice quickly tucked his wayward appendage beneath his own cloak, though its absence did nothing to relieve Heero's nerves. "Don't misunderstand," the acolyte assured Heero.

"Misunderstand what," Heero breathed, hardly allowing air to escape his lungs. It bewildered him that he felt just as helpless without the acolyte's touch. The very things he had so heartlessly said to Relena and the emotional response she had returned to him earlier replayed in his head, leaving him with the taste of a hypocrite's words on his tongue.

The acolyte, who seemed unaware of Heero's inner turmoil, merely shrugged and said, "Wanting to be here with you." He leaned in again, smiling as he clarified, "For wanting to know you better – for you to come with me."

The clatter of women's shoes on the frozen cobblestones and the sound of a woman calling Heero's name threw a noose around his heart, threatening to squeeze his soul right out. The moment he realized that Relena had left the ball and had come out to look for him, Heero felt the anticipatory swelling inside his chest become one of dread. The contrast was as stark as moon and sun.

"I don't mind," Heero quickly said, his lips moving of their own accord as Relena's voice grew nearer. The garden where they sat was practically adjacent to the Violet Citadel, the ballroom of which was hosting the Winter Veil gala; it wouldn't take long for a quick girl like Relena to figure out to where Heero had vanished. Heero sucked in another mouthful of air, wondering, "Where are we going?"

"Wherever you like," Duo drawled. "But if it's all the same to you, my brother is hosting a holiday party – small, intimate: nothing like that circus you were trapped in before."

But Heero didn't even have time to wonder how the mage apprentice knew he had been at the ball – or how he seemed to know everything about his life and his habits – and instead staggered to his feet, dizzy. His hand immediately darted out, flailing around for some kind of support until it was caught in the acolyte's sturdy grasp. Heero's eyes wandered down the length of their conjoined arms, slowly lifting his gaze to meet the other's. For a minute, it felt as if he'd lost himself, his breath frozen in the air and hovering around his lips too slowly to be real. Never in his life had Heero dreamed that even the deepest stars of Elune's ream could fit into such a well – that he could fall and sail to the moon all at once.

A microcosm.

--

The moment was shattered like a summer rain suddenly needling a still pond. Just when it seemed that Relena would find the snowy garden at any moment, the longhaired acolyte suddenly jerked Heero closer and, with speed that was befitting of a rogue, muttered what sounded like a spell. Immediately, the entire world around Heero seemed to flicker and blink away, ceding into another place altogether. Now they stood further down the street, well away from the garden and closer to the mercantile district. "A trick I just learned," the acolyte informed Heero with a grin before grabbing him and blinking down the street yet again. The acolyte's peals of laughter echoed through the quiet streets as they flickered along like fireflies in the night.

They were soon deep in the more residential section of the city, entering a humble walk-up apartment building that seemed to blend in with the others along that particular stretch of road. Heero couldn't help but wonder if the constant teleporting to reach this place had been truly aimed at showing off, or if it was instead been employed to keep Heero intentionally disoriented. And yet, despite such an observation, which would have normally sent Heero reeling in the opposite direction, he found himself following the acolyte inside without protest. Try as he might to moor himself in logic, he was only able to flash back to dancing with Relena, picturing her mouth as it shaped the words that described her irrational fixation on him. The parallels he drew from it only did to make his stomach drop and drag on the ground behind him, and he couldn't decide if he was more bothered by the fact that he was going along with this despite all that, or if it was to do with admitting that he was no better than Admiral Proudmoore's headstrong daughter. Then he decided it was best to try not to think about it at all.

The creak of hinges groaned from somewhere upstairs, followed by a series of brisk footsteps. A male voice called down from a higher landing: "O brother mine, is that you, home at last?" There was definitely a sarcastic twang in the unseen speaker's tone.

"Aye, aye, 'tis me. Forgive my lateness, brother!" the acolyte shouted back, brushing away the snow dust that was clinging to his hood with the back of his hand. Obviously, he was not at all concerned with the other tenants that might have been sleeping then.

"Only if you managed to garner the flasks I sent you out for," the acolyte's brother snapped. For all of his younger brother's imprudence, the elder had a very no-nonsense air to him. "Now get up here! Hilde's been waiting to see you since her ship landed on the noontide."

Obediently, the Kirin Tor acolyte mounted the stairs, motioning for Heero to follow him up the rickety steps. "Don't mind his ornery nature. He thinks he fills bigger boots than he wears," he said in a sotto whisper as they climbed up to the third landing. Pausing for a moment, he also added: "And don't be put off by Hilde. In the end, she's just as much a misfit as you or I."

Heero accepted this prologue with his usual somber grace, not at all interested enough in the acolyte's brother or his friend to care a whit what kind of people they were. He trailed after the mage, shadowing him as he pushed open a door that had been left ajar for them. Instantly, they were thrust into a much more ambient space, golden in the light of only a few candles and a lantern that sat proudly on the floor in the middle of the apartment, surrounded by a scattering of lounge pillows and blankets. There wasn't much else of note in the small room besides a sparse table and some cabinetry. Heero thought it doubtful that any of them actually lived in this place, a dubious notion in and of itself.

Squinting into the dark, Heero could just make out two figures framed in the windows lining the front of the apartment. The falling snow outside cast them in a pale, silver corona, denoting two very different creatures. The smaller one cut a familiar form – that of a lean young man – easily marking him as the acolyte's moody brother, whereas the other lent itself to a more bestial shape. Heero couldn't be sure, but he thought he could just make out the curl of a tail swishing behind the larger figure, a hint as to what the creature might be.

"About time you wandered back," the hulking figure said in a pleasantly deep voice. Stepping a bit closer to the lantern with a footfall that sounded like the clatter of hooves, the speaker was liberated from the shadows, and Heero was actually startled to find himself in the presence of a mighty Tauren female. The gasp that escaped his lips at the sight of her quickly drew her attention, bemusement crossing her bovine features as she took note of the way the acolyte hovered near him. "I see you went and found yourself better company," she joked, still eyeing them. "I wonder if it's worth the trip across the sea to spend the holidays in Dalaran anymore…."

"You keep that bull ringed nose of yours in your own affairs, Hilde," the acolyte quipped. He was playful, but the way he was purposefully standing between the Tauren and Heero was far more assertive than anything he could have actually said.

"It's good to see you, too," Hilde joked back, the beads and feathers of her leather robes jangling as she crossed her arms over her chest. Her black fur seemed to glow purple in the hazy light, enunciating the tribal markings that covered her biceps. Then, clasping her large hands together, she quickly diverted the topic: "Well, then, now that we're all assembled, what say we get this party started? Let's have those flasks of holiday bourbon." She moved back towards the window and stooped to the ground, delving through what seemed to be a rucksack.

While Hilde was distracted by her search, the acolyte's older brother held his ground, glaring through the candlelight with ice blue eyes that glinted sharply in the dimness. "I didn't know you would be bringing a guest," he hissed at his brother, clearly not pleased by Heero's presence.

The acolyte groaned. "Really, Solo, it's not as horrible as you make it sound," he bemoaned, stepping closer to Heero still. He reached out to grab Heero's hand, which startled him, but, surprisingly enough, did not bother him.

The frown did not leave Solo's face as he grimaced, "You know why I don't like it."

The acolyte sneered and shot back, "And you know that I don't really care." His grip tightened around Heero's hand, though it seemed like the reassurance was more for the acolyte's benefit than Heero's.

Hilde shattered the mounting tension with an exclamation of triumph that she'd found what she'd been looking for. Heero peered around the acolyte to see the Tauren approach the group with what seemed to a pipe, but far longer and straighter than any pipe Heero had ever seen before. It was carved of light wood and painted in red, white and green, a decoratively beaded feather twirling from the bottom, where it turned up into a bowl. "The village shaman blended a special herb for Winter Veil," she was saying as she stood and plodded over towards the lantern to join the others. "I thought it would be a good gesture to bring it."

The acolyte was grinning at Hilde as he dragged Heero to sit with him on one of the pillows around the light, urging him to take off his cloak and make himself comfortable. Solo moodily sat down as well, shooting dark stares at Heero and the acolyte, who was busy conjuring a selection of liquor bottles from nothingness. Heero wondered if they were another product of the mage's wizardry or if they had been acquired by more dishonest means. The curiosity was almost immediately forgotten, tossed from Heero's mind as something that really didn't matter either way, especially once Duo started passing the first bottle around the circle. The burn of the whiskey on Heero's throat was far more satisfying than the wine he had been guzzling at the ball.

Meanwhile, Hilde was pressing a bowlful of the special herb she'd brought with her into the wide end of the pipe with practiced ease. She held the pipe to her mouth and lifted one of the lighted candles to kindle the brew, inhaling in deeply as the herb's piquant scent started to fill the air. Breathing out a lungful of the pungent smoke, she passed the pipe to Solo, who went through a similar ritual before handing it off to his brother. Heero watched from behind the bottle he had been nursing as the acolyte took a long hit, intrigued by this custom the Tauren had brought with her from Kalimdor.

"Want to try?" the acolyte asked, jarring Heero from his thoughts. The longhaired mage was holding the pipe out to him, the candlelight highlighting a particularly devious expression on his face. He seemed a bit less frenetic than usual, but Heero figured it was probably just the mood. He stared at the proffered pipe, debating whether or not he should partake in on a custom he didn't fully understand while the acolyte briefly elaborated with, "It's medicinal – calms your nerves."

Still dubious, Heero ended up accepting the pipe, slowly lifting it to his mouth with the discomfort of someone who knew that all the eyes in the room were fixated on him. He had never smoked anything in his life before, and his inexperience manifested itself when his first mouthful of smoke left him coughing and grasping for the bourbon as so he could clear his throat. He thrust the pipe out for whoever would take it as he poured a shot of liquor down his throat.

"You need to breathe in all the way first," the acolyte advised, his chuckling filling Heero's ears as he felt the pipe leave his fingers. "Here, let me help you," he added, hitting the bong again. At first, Heero thought that the mage apprentice was just trying to demonstrate how he ought to do it, but was startled to realize that wasn't his plan at all. Instead of exhaling into the middle of the room as he had before, the acolyte leaned over towards Heero, lifting his chin and guiding his mouth so near his own, they were just short of touching. Then, with almost gentle delicacy, he breathed out for Heero, who found this method much easier to fill his lungs with the noxious smoke than with the pipe.

The effect was almost immediate, and the reactions of the other two and the pipe's second round through their hands seemed vastly unimportant to Heero. Instead, he was more focused on the warmth of the acolyte's fingers, which still lingered beneath his chin, and hoped he might be allowed another turn like that. This time, he wanted to breathe the acolyte in and hold him there, hoping that doing so would perpetuate the satisfying numbness that was rolling through his body. Already, he felt as if the problems and tribulations that usually plagued his conscience were draining from him, almost as if he were being cleansed. Vaguely, he wondered if that was the doing of Hilde's medicinal herb or the acolyte's heady breathing. It was with an almost needy groan that he accepted the acolyte's offer for another taste, his entire body static with the thrill that ran through him when his lips accidentally brushed against those of his companion.

"Are you trying to test my patience?" came a voice Heero absently recalled as Solo's. "I sincerely think you do these things to addle me!"

"You're still too tense, Solo," mused Hilde with a rather lackadaisical lilt to her tone. "I think it's kind of nice watching them…."

Solo was clearly in disagreement, but he seemed incapable of doing much more than letting out a grunt of annoyance and muttering, "I still don't like it. If someone finds that boy here like this…." He trailed off, distracted by the fact that it was his turn with the pipe once more.

Of course, all of Solo's concerns were inconsequential to the ones at whom they were directed. Heero found himself half reclined in the pillows as the acolyte dipped in close, sometimes to share a hit with him, and sometimes just to nuzzle their mouths together. Other times, the acolyte would amuse himself by letting his lips graze other bits of Heero's face: his cheek, his neck and clavicle; his fluttering eyelids and the tip of his nose. Heero liked the thrill of it, even as the herb's influence started to ebb away.

Still, he might have lingered in that hazy bliss forever if it hadn't been for the sudden awareness that his body was far more pleased with the acolyte's touching than he had realized. Embarrassed that the acolyte might have noticed as well, Heero suddenly sat up, almost knocking over the bottle of whiskey beside him.

"What's wrong?" the acolyte wondered, just as surprised by Heero's sudden movements as Heero had been by the need between his thighs. He stared at Heero, wondering what he had done wrong: he hadn't thought that he had done anything to victimize Heero and was confused by Heero's abrupt change in attitude. A stray thought in the back of his mind suggested that he might have done well to spend more time helping Heero stay high than distracting himself with kisses and the occasional wandering hand.

"N-Nothing, I…" Heero stammered, his ability to speak tapering off when he realized that Hilde and Solo were looking at him as well. He was sure all of them knew exactly what had happened and fleeing, once again, seemed like the best option at the moment. Had he the pause to think about it, he might have found it ironic that his urge to escape had to do with wanting too much, whereas his need to leave Relena was laden with his inability to want anything at all. Quickly, he got to his feet and hurriedly thanked them for their hospitality. Then, without further ado, he quickly turned on his heel and left the apartment, skipping the stairs two at a time and bursting out into the wintery night without even remembering to put on his cloak before he left.

--

TBC.


	14. In His Place

**Title: **_**The Forsaken**_

**Author: **Link Worshiper

**Pairings:** 1=2, maybe some others if I feel like it

**Rating: **PG-13

**Stuff:** Fantasy AU, fluff, sap, language, adventure, WoW nerdiness

**Disclaimer:** I own Gundam Wing action figures? Warcraft and its lore belongs to Blizzard Entertainment. Both things are being played with out of fangirl love.

Thanks to danse and Natea for the once over. Despite the fact this is part of Natea's birthday present, I still needed her to fill me in on the Alliance history they don't teach us on Horde, so thanks for that also =P

**ATTENTION: Since half the reason ffnet and I are not friends is because they pulled one of my fics down for being too sexy back in the old porn witchhunt days, this chapter has been heavily edited for posting here. **Not that I would ever get another 3000 fucking reviews on this story, as was the case with Smells Like Teen Spirit, but I'm not taking chances anyway. If you want to read the unedited, dirty, raunchy version of this, visit my LJ or my website. Both links are on my profile page. Otherwise, enjoy the vanilla version.

_Part XIV_

_In His Place_

Father Maxwell, the master of the Dalaran orphanage, was a man who lived to truly uphold his principles in every aspect of his life. He wore drab robes and ate plain, hearty food. No cushy apartment in the one of the classier sections of the city for him, despite the fact that his fine standing with the Kirin Tor could have easily afforded him one. Rather, his quarters were above the orphanage dormitories, where he lived humbly with the children no one else wanted. If he could have kept all of them, he would have done so easily and felt as though he were the richest man in all of Azeroth, but alas, he had only been granted two: a set of brothers who had turned up at Krasus' Landing on a Winter Veil night a little over fifteen years before. At times, he almost forgot that they weren't actually his kin because he loved them so, prouder of their accomplishments and growth as much than any other father might be. Tonight they would celebrate those twenty years together with a fittingly modest dinner around the Maxwell table and the festivity of the holidays, even as the murmurings of unrest in Lordaeron lingered beneath the air.

"I cannot believe how fortunate I am to have you boys, even at the behest of all the strange circumstances that brought our small family together," Maxwell toasted, lifting his flagon high over the wooden table at which he broke bread with his two sons. "One to help me care for the other children, and another learned enough to tutor the students of the Kirin Tor," he continued merrily. "O, how the Light smiles upon us!" With that, he drank deeply of the ale in his mug, a signal that it was alright for his two sons to begin eating as well.

As the scrape and tinkle of knives and forks across porcelain filled the room, Solo turned to his brother and lifted an eyebrow. "Tutoring?" he queried skeptically. "Who are you tutoring?"

"You wouldn't like it if I told you," the younger brother answered snidely, pointedly focusing on sawing at the meat on his plate.

"Oh, come now, that's not so," Maxwell chided, finding parental amusement in the way the two boys bickered like children a fraction their age. He turned conversationally to Solo and tried to fill him in, saying, "You most certainly would know: it's—"

"--none of his business!" the young acolyte interjected, slamming his knife into the table. "I don't need my big brother hassling every aspect of my life as if I'm incapable of handling anything on my own."

Sensing his brother's need to be confrontational, Solo jabbed a finger at him and hissed, "You're ruining our birthday feast."

Father Maxwell was just lifting a hand to settle the dispute as a frantic knock bounced against the other side of the apartment door. Maxwell twisted around in his chair, confused by the sound. He had been fairly certain that all the children had been put to bed, and was thus concerned immensely by the sound of the tiny hand against the wood. Quickly forgetting the trite argument between Solo and his brother, he got up and strode towards the door, leaving the two young men to settle their differences while he investigated this new matter.

He opened up to reveal a small girl with red hair standing in his midst. She was a bit older than most of the other children at the orphanage, but still too young to be expected to take care of herself. She clutched a rolled parchment in one fist, and though it wasn't particularly extraordinary, the blue ribbon and seal that held it fast denoted it as an official document. Maxwell furrowed his brow a the sight of it as the girl held it out to him, distracted by how out of place this presentation was. The affairs of the Alliance had no place in the hands of a child. "A message?" he wondered, hoping his voice wasn't shaking as much as he thought it was.

"The man in silver and blue brought it on his yellow horse," the girl said. "He said it's for Brother Solo and that he wants to talk to him after he reads the letter." She grinned toothily, clearly pleased with herself that she'd remembered the entire message. Her happily squinted eyes blinded her from the apprehensive grimace that washed across Maxwell's face, which was probably for the better. His voice deceptively even, Maxwell called to Solo, interrupting the sibling feud by calling him over.

"What's this?" asked Solo as Maxwell wordlessly handed the scroll to him. The tall blonde broke the wax insignia holding the blue ribbon fast and unfurled the paper, his face growing somber as his blue eyes quickly scanned over the words penned there. By the time he was through, the corners of his mouth had fallen into a deep frown, the only expressive feature of his otherwise blank countenance.

Eventually, the young acolyte, left alone at the table, grew unsettled by the dark mood that had fallen over the room. Standing, he stomped over to the doorway, swearing, "By the _Light_! What in Elune's name is going on here?" He snatched the parchment from Solo's hand without even so much as asking to look at it, but its message, though not addressed to him, had a similar effect on the acolyte that it did his elder brother. "This… this can't be," he murmured in disbelief.

"What can't be?" piped up the small redhead, whom the three adults had almost forgotten once the parchment had been opened. Knowing that the discussion was about to take a turn he didn't want a child to be a part of, Maxwell quickly grabbed the girl by the hand, ushering her into the hall. "Let's go to bed, darling," he said, walking as quickly as he could towards the dormitories. He had known what the parchment's message would be the moment he'd seen the Alliance crest. In a way, escorting the girl back to bed was almost as much an escape for the orphanage master as it was for his ward.

Solo was still frozen in the same place he'd been for some time, even as his brother started on a tirade. "You can't do this, even if it _is_ an order from the seat of Lordaeron!" he yelled, waving the parchment around carelessly. "If their own army isn't enough, then maybe they shouldn't embark on this campaign at all. You'll just be cannon fodder for some inexperienced clod to whet his appetite for glory."

Glancing at his brother, Solo answered dully, "That 'inexperienced clod' is to be none other than Prince Treize himself. If the king is willing to send his son, I doubt he would instill a draft unless it was dire." He then turned his attention back to the doorway, which still stood open, his eyes glassing over once more. "I should probably go down and meet that soldier waiting outside." He lifted one foot as if he meant to plod forward with doing just that.

Sharp with anger at the whole situation, the acolyte was too fast for Solo, and he quickly positioned himself in the doorway to keep his brother from leaving. "Don't you dare take another step," the acolyte hissed, glowering up at his older brother. "Not one more unless you want me to follow you all the way to Lordaeron! And then to wherever after that!"

The threat was enough to at least elicit a real reaction from Solo, who knit his eyebrows with malcontent when he registered what his brother was threatening. "You'll do no such thing," Solo snapped with more of his usual bite. "You're a mage! Of course they wouldn't send one of the Kirin Tor's own all the way to _Northrend_ to quell a rumour…."

The acolyte didn't like Solo's argument one bit, exerting his anger on the parchment, which he violently crushed into his fist. "So you're saying that just because you're a commoner, it's perfectly acceptable for them to drag you a thousand leagues from home just to satisfy the curiosity of some spoilt _prince_?" he growled, his fingernails cutting through the paper and into his palm.

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying – and speak nothing ill of the prince like that! He is to be honoured, even if he is not our own," Solo barked back. He then grabbed his brother by the collar and attempted to wrest him from the doorway. "Step out of the way! I'm going!"

"I can't believe you actually _want_ to," the acolyte protested, holding himself as steady as he could.

"Could be a chance for this _commoner_ to be somebody!" Solo argued back, taking his frustrations out on his brother. He certainly wasn't thrilled at the thought of being taken into the army against his will, but he knew it was his duty to perform and that there were things at work far greater than just he. "You know, not all of us can be accepted into the elite fold of the Kirin Tor!"

But the younger brother was no fool and he knew a ploy when he heard one. "Now you're just being absurd. You know you don't want this – no one would! It's not our kingdom, and it's not our fight!"

Solo took it upon himself to quiet his brother in the best way he knew how, reeling his fist back and landing a fierce blow into the younger man's cheek. "Quiet," he ordered, taking no pity on the acolyte as he nursed his bruised face with one hand. "If the stories of plague spreading in the countryside are true and the source of it is in Northrend, then it is most certainly a trouble that extends beyond the borders of kingdoms, and we fight as much for Stormwind and Dalaran as we do Lordaeron! If Prince Treize needs able-bodied men to aid the investigation, then that is my place," he said, grimly cutting through any protests his brother thought to voice. "And you are quite aware that your place is here – here, with your duties and responsibilities. Even more so if I must leave, and you very well know it." His stare was unwavering, reinforcing the weight of his speech with the resolve in his eyes. Batting away his brother's obstructing arm, Solo pushed by him and into the dark hallway. A wistful smile crossed his face as he reached out to touch the acolyte's shoulder and said, "We cannot afford to lose more than we already have. I leave protecting that in your custody."

With those words, he started for the stairs at the end of the hall, refusing to even look over his shoulder as he left his brother behind. The acolyte roared with anger, the force of his energy snuffing out all the fire in the wall sconces that lit Solo's path. "Don't you dare die," the acolyte yelled after his brother. "Or I will kill Treize myself, prince or otherwise!"

His threats reverberated through the empty passage, answered only by the shadows he had created. Clenching the balled up mandate even tighter into his fist, he suddenly spread his fingers and willed the parchment to burst into flame. Then, taking two vehement strides towards the hearth inside the Maxwell apartment, the acolyte hurled the smoldering paper into the grate, where it exploded into a curl of unnatural green fire. Face licked by the eerie glow, he glared at it, maliciously watching it burn and hating that stupid piece of paper for tearing his family apart, while Solo set out for Lordaeron with the soldier waiting outside.

Heero had not been himself since the Winter Veil Ball.

It had been a slow progression. In the days following the ball, he had fallen into a state of denial, refusing to even acknowledge the things that had happened under the influence of Hilde's herb. He had written off any enjoyment he had experienced with the acolyte as a direct correlation to the strange high smoking the blend had induced, which just seemed much easier to simply accept than trying to unravel its complexities. But work he might to clip out the memories, he was aggravated to find that his mind still continued to dwell on them the harder he fought to forget them. The lack of control was enough to drive him mad, and whenever he found his thoughts wandering to the acolyte – thinking of where he was and what he might be doing right then – it was all he could do to curse his very existence for confusing him so. He was ready to trade almost anything for the firm grip he once held on things, unsure how one person could push his life so off balance. It was taking a lot out of him to keep his footing, even as he continued to slip down this path, and it didn't take long for Helen to catch wind that something was amiss.

The most tangible and noticeable signifier of all this could be found in Heero's studies. Usually a student of such high caliber that Helen had yet to realize he had no interest in magic, Heero's indifference was starting to peek through the cracks. Class was the last place he wanted to be, and whenever he attended, he spent more energy trying to avoid people like Quatre and Relena than actually investing himself in learning. He knew Quatre had an inkling that something was wrong, and there was no way he could face Relena after such an embarrassing interlude, so he figured the best plan would be to simply dodge the confrontation altogether. It was unhelpful that the very thought of Relena only did to remind him of the acolyte and the fact that he could stir things in Heero that Relena could not. That fact made Heero nervous and uncomfortable, unsure what exactly that meant. Surely it wasn't natural, anyway, and the confusion only made him more depressed.

Nor was it much better that the best solution Helen had managed to come up with for all this was to arrange for Heero to have a tutor. She had thought it a great blessing that one of the Kirin Tor's most promising acolytes was in the care of her good friend, Father Maxwell, completely unaware that that very same acolyte was the one that was at the center of Heero's tormented universe. She had not sufficiently prepared him with this bit of information either, and had merely given Heero an unfamiliar name and time at which he was supposed to be home for this remedial study, hoping it would somehow revitalize Heero's ambition. She had no idea that she had only fed the beast.

So it was with great malcontent that Heero stayed in that first evening, despite the fact that his restless soul wanted nothing more than to aimlessly wander Dalaran in hopes he might somehow lose himself in the process. He paced about his small chamber, clapping his hands against his arms and chewing his lip as the hour dwindled nearer to a session he was surely going to spend in chains. He managed to get himself so worked up that when the knock finally sounded on his door, he froze, his innards swelling with the panicked frenzy of someone who was trapped and yearned for escape. And yet, it was all he could do to stare at the door handle as it slowly twisted downwards and gave way to the one he would be spending the evening with. At the sight of the acolyte's smug face, Heero felt like he wanted to both breathe a sigh of relief and die at the same time.

"How do, my lord?" asked the acolyte, lingering in the doorway long enough to drop a rather exaggerated bow. He was dressed in his familiar apprentice's robes and carried a satchel made of frostweave, which was packed tightly with a number of books, parchments, inks and quills. Heero focused on the silk stitching of the bag in an effort to keep his traitorous eyes from meeting those of his new tutor, even as the visitor swaggered into the room like it was his own familiar territory. "Sister Helen just let me in and told me where you were," he prattled on as if he had no idea how bothered Heero was. Setting his bag down with a rather startling thump, he leaned on the writing desk by the door and added, "So what say you we get started?"

Heero said nothing and simply dragged a stool over to the desk. Sitting down, he crossed his arms and waited for the acolyte to take the lead. He didn't trust himself to keep his composure if he relinquished even a little bit, and the last thing he wanted was to end up admitting things to the acolyte he didn't fully understand himself. Besides, what little rationality he still possessed demanded that he at least observe the acolyte a little before addressing the two-ton war mammoth sitting in the middle of the room. Perhaps he would be fortunate enough to determine that everything that had been bothering him since the ball had been an elaborate hallucination. Then things could go back to normal.

But normal simply was not to be. Even during those first few sessions, Heero found himself highlighting everything the acolyte did with tortured clarity. From the way he would lean over Heero's shoulder to monitor his inscription work to even the most accidental of touches – which, to Heero's mind, hardly seemed accidental at all – or even the mere way the acolyte would look at Heero just before he left, Heero couldn't help but wonder just what sort of game his tutor was playing at. It was almost as if the acolyte was trying to test Heero as well, and with the way the pair of them were dancing around each other, they were reaching a fast stalemate. It was only a matter of time before one of them cracked.

The inevitable culmination of all their past interactions manifested itself on a day that had started as innocuously as any other. The acolyte had appeared in Heero's doorway with his frostweave bag right on schedule, and, as per usual, Heero wordlessly took his direction and observed, all the while hoping he wouldn't give himself away with any suspicious behaviour. He had actually come to look forward to his tutoring sessions, even if he knew he was just a masochist for allowing the acolyte's presence to domineer his thoughts so. Even still, he tried to make an effort to suppress his natural skills in hopes that it would prolong his time with the strange apprentice. Unfortunately for Heero, crafty as he was, the acolyte was far craftier.

"You know," the acolyte drawled from his spot on the edge of the desk, "if I wasn't any wiser, I might say that you didn't need my help at all."

Hearing this, Heero froze halfway through casting a spell. The pitcher of water he was levitating suddenly dropped from the air, its metallic hull clanging loudly against the wooden desktop, its contents splashing across the nearby acolyte's lap. "Wh-what makes you say that," Heero said, straightening his back and smoothing out blue fabric of his short tunic.

"Oh, no reason," the acolyte answered with a shrug, though the glint in his eye suggested otherwise.

This ambiguous answer annoyed Heero. Scowling, he said tightly, "Well, if you think that, then why do you keep coming over here to help? I'm sure your brother isn't happy with your visits as it is." He spat out the last part almost vindictively, a reference to the way Solo had treated him the night of the ball. It was the closest either of them had come to bringing it up since it had happened.

"My brother is in Northrend with the Lordaeron army," the acolyte glossed over smoothly, hardly batting an eyelid at the remark. "He has no control over what I do – or just whom I do it _with_."

But Heero's thoughts were far from Northrend and Prince Treize's campaign there, much too occupied with the suggestive twang to the acolyte's comment. There had once been a time where he had found such airs annoying, but now he found them in almost everything his tutor said and latched onto them with a fervor he couldn't quite explain.

A dangerous smirk crossed the acolyte's face as he slid off the edge of the desk, striding closer to where Heero stood. "It would seem that you have no control over me either," he continued with a sly lilt, "even though you wish you did."

Heero blinked and swallowed, suddenly very aware of the fact that the acolyte was standing behind him, breathing heavily into his ear. Heero stiffened his back and held his arm aloft like he meant to channel another spell, but found he was unable to focus properly. The acolyte had helped poise him for proper spellcasting with similar proximity before, but this time was different – Heero could tell.

"An inexperienced caster wouldn't have the poise you do when you throw a spell," the acolyte murmured, his husky voice tickling the long bangs that lay across Heero's temple. He reached for Heero's wrists and held them in upturned palms and continued, "Nor would an amateur have such sharp focus when channeling magic…." Suddenly, one of the acolyte's arms tightened around Heero's waist, pinning their torsos together. He hissed, "It's been hard enough keeping my distance without your teasing. And you are." His lips grazed Heero's jawbone as he finished raggedly, "A horrible, horrible tease, that is."

Heero felt like a bird sitting just inside the toothy maw of a great crockalisk, afraid to move lest he tempt the monster to chomp down, and yet was still enticed by the rush such danger instilled in the pit of his belly and between his thighs. He was slightly panicked with embarrassment that the acolyte's possessive grip excited him so, still unable to tell if he was being beckoned or a victim of the acolyte's frustration. Tentatively daring to test the waters, Heero gasped through his tightened throat, "You're hardly any better."

But the acolyte wasn't falling for such reverse trickery, tightening his hold on Heero as he said, "You're not the one who has to keep himself from drinking every time he wakes up alone," he pressed darkly, his words melting against Heero's warming skin. "You're the secret I keep – the one I've wanted since I was old enough to know what that even meant – you and only you." The hand that wasn't fixed around Heero's middle found its way beneath his chin as the acolyte murmured more of his confession, "I don't care that my brother doesn't approve or that we're supposed to lead separate lives in different castes: as long as the cinders of my broken heart burn, I will pine for you." He kissed the corner of Heero's eye: "Naegriel moe," he whispered in Thalassian as his lips fell across the contour of Heero's high cheekbone. "Estelio han," he breathed, his fingers gently angling Heero's face more towards him. "Estelio veleth;" the acolyte's lips quested for Heero's, seeking a taste – permission, even. "Estelio…."

Heero's ability to understand language, or to even rationalize the world around him, was seared away the moment his panting mouth met the acolyte's. His entire body trembled with the need that had crippled him the night of the Winter Veil Ball, and though he was just as confused and insecure now as he had been then, his instinct to flee and save face was soon neutralized by the discovery that his body's reactions were not unique. However, unlike Heero, the acolyte actually seemed rather eager to make Heero aware of the hardness between his thighs, unabashedly rolling his hips against the contour of Heero's waist as if he meant to flaunt it. Even the mere thought of it was enough to make Heero pour a heady groan down the acolyte's throat, while he, in turn, started to tug at Heero's belt, yanking it off with a leathery hiss. Heero easily gave in to the temptation.

Collapsing against Heero once they were through, their bodies and clothes sticky with sweat, the acolyte nuzzled his student's cheek affectionately. With a chuckle, he whispered, "'Tis a funny wonder you would call your slave 'Master', when it is I who lives to serve you." He let his hand slip beneath the tunic that was still bunched around Heero's chest, rubbing the pads of his fingers across one of Heero's erect nipples as he added, "Whatever you desire, it is yours. I am but your plaything, Heero."

Achieving its desired effect, the comment went straight to Heero's groin, which only did to excite both of them again. He grabbed a fistful of the acolyte's hair, urgently wanting to be covered by his body once more. Heero wrapped his arms around the acolyte's neck, knowing that nothing else would do now that he had experienced the depths of the other's love for him. He wondered if he had the capacity to return such affection, but was quick to dispose of such a worry: now that he'd been caught, he was sure it didn't matter where they landed now. He was sure there weren't words to express what this moment meant to him anyway.

If Quatre Winner ever got annoyed, then this was the closest he ever came. He had been sitting on a bench near the Krasus Landing gate for almost two hours, patiently waiting for Heero to show up. They had been invited to a great banquet in Lordaeron to celebrate the homecoming of Prince Treize and what had been reported to be a successful mission to Northrend, but Quatre had wanted to go early in order to see the prince ride back to the city and the welcoming parade that would surely accompany him. However, glancing up at the large clock that ticked away above a nearby storefront, Quatre frowned, knowing that if this kept up, they would never make it to Lordaeron in time to see it. He was tempted to just get up and make the journey himself, but he knew that wouldn't be any fun at all. Besides, Heero had become so scarce in the past few months, he had truly been looking forward to spending the day with his wayward friend. But considering how much Heero had changed since Winter Veil, he supposed he shouldn't have been so surprised by the way of things.

Still, Quatre couldn't help but think this was getting a bit ridiculous. He couldn't imagine what had happened to Heero to make him so distracted as of late, but he was suddenly overwhelmed with resolve to figure it out. There was obviously some irregularity in Heero's life that had him by a string, since Heero had been more than ready to accept the invitation to Lordaeron the week prior. It wasn't Heero's way to make plans he did not have every intention of following through with, which was more than enough proof to confirm Quatre's suspicions. Purposefully, he got to his feet and immediately started marching in the direction of Helen's apartments: if he was going to miss Treize's arrival in Lordaeron, Quatre was certainly going to make sure Heero heard all about it.

Rapping on the front door with the stiffness of a military man, Quatre mentally prepared himself for the speech he was going to deliver to Heero the moment he saw him. He was not surprised that it was Helen who answered his call and even less surprised by her response when he asked if he might speak with Heero.

"Oh, I'm afraid he's not in," she said apologetically. "To my knowledge, he stayed the night with his tutor so they could get some early morning review in at the library before you were to go to Lordaeron. Why, did he not meet you?"

"I've been waiting since midmorning," Quatre said flatly, hoping he didn't sound too disrespectful. "I was beginning to wonder if something had happened to him…."

Helen seemed to miss the nuance of Quatre's comment, instead shaking her head with the forgiving air of a mother. "He has been rather dedicated to his studies since he started working with that tutor. He's been wonderful for Heero," she said with a proud sigh. "I'm sure you know him: he's one of Father Maxwell's wards…."

So that was it! Quatre was less than shocked to hear that mischievous apprentice had something to do with Heero's behaviour. Come to think of it, Heero's mysterious scarcity always seemed to circulate around his studies, and now Quatre knew exactly why. Practically interrupting Helen, he thanked her and curtly turned on his heel, striding with even more purpose towards the Dalaran library. If that damned acolyte was responsible for any of this, then he had just managed to elevate himself on Quatre's hit list.

With so many people gone to Lordaeron to partake in the festivities, the library was even more quiet than usual when Quatre got there. All the better for Heero and his wayward friend, Quatre thought as he started to comb through the aisles of shelves in search of them: it would mean that there would be less ears present to hear the verbal lashing he had in store. It wasn't long before he heard their all too familiar voices from not so far away. With ferocious conviction, Quatre immediately turned in the direction they were coming from and yanked the nearest book from the shelf to glare through to the study nook on the other side. The moment he laid eyes on them, however, everything he had come to say was almost instantly forgotten.

"Ready to review so quickly? What a premier student," came the acolyte's voice, though it was quickly apparent that books were hardly the focus of this particular lesson. Quatre felt an unwitting swallow drop down his throat at the sight of the acolyte coming up behind Heero to wrap his arms around his waist, his head buried affectionately against his shoulder in a fashion that Quatre was surprised Heero would even allow. He was impressed by how serene and content Heero looked in the embrace of that longhaired apprentice.

Quatre barely had time to let his mind settle on the idea of two males being so comfortable around one another before he was getting an eyeful of just how intimate their relationship was. He chewed the inside of his cheek, unable to glance away as Heero leaned back to brush his lips against those of his tutor. He hadn't thought that sort of thing was done, and yet, found himself intrigued by the notion. He wondered what it meant that his mind was conjuring a rather obscure memory from the Winter Veil Ball: a brief conversation he'd had with some redhaired noble of Silvermoon and a thought as to what he might be doing at that very moment.

That was the last thing Quatre remembered thinking before the whole world went to hell. For right then, there was a loud shout and a bang as someone came crashing into the library in a great panic. "Treachery! Treason!" the newcomer screamed from somewhere outside the labyrinth of bookshelves. "The King of Lordaeron is dead, murdered by his own son! The city burns!"

Anything else the herald had to say was drowned out by the sudden panic that overwhelmed the people to whom this news was fresh. Heero and his companion suddenly jumped at the commotion, their attention trained in the general direction of the hubbub. The acolyte seemed particularly chilled by this announcement, and had it not been for the subtle way Heero was gripping his hand tight in his own, the Kirin Tor apprentice might have torn out on a rampage right then and there. "There is nothing to be done here," Heero muttered to his lover. "Calculated warfare should be met with calculated countermeasures."

The acolyte grit his teeth but knew that Heero was right. Even though his initial concern was what had befallen his brother if the one who had lead his battalion had come home to betray his own kingdom, he knew that he could not adjust whatever fate had come to him. However, there was still time to make sure that his retaliation was the proper one.

It was then that Quatre chose to take his stand and reveal himself. Striding around the bookshelf he'd been lurking behind, he coughed and made his presence known, though in the light of what had just happened, his intentions had drastically shifted from his original purpose. Ignoring the startled way Heero and the acolyte received him, he said, "There is nothing to fear. Dalaran will stand against this new threat, as will Silvermoon and Stormwind. My father will make it so."

Though this assurance was given in good faith, the acolyte's reaction was far from welcoming. "You will do no such thing: this I already know!" he snapped, angrily digging beneath the collar of his robes for the initiate's pendant he wore around his neck. Snapping it off its chain, he flung it onto the nearby desk and drew an ice rune through the air with sharp jerks of his finger, casting a vindictive dagger through its middle. "Damn the Kirin Tor for its godforsaken neutral diplomacy! You wouldn't ally yourself with Stormwind or the Sunbenders of Quel'thalas any sooner than you would orcs!" he roared as the ice blade dribbled beads of frozen water from its pommel. He crushed his hand into a fist, shattering the ice dagger into hundreds of shards that rained across the now deformed pendant and the scored desk it lay upon. "By the time you settle to do anything, half of Azeroth will have fallen to this mad prince," he muttered, distractedly stalking away from Quatre.

Heero shot him a glare and then snatched up his lover's pendant before striding purposefully after him. He didn't mean Quatre any ill will, but he didn't also didn't expect anyone to understand what he shared with the acolyte the same way either of them did. Truth be told, he was frightened and unprepared for what this sudden twist might mean for any of them, though it was certainly something he would never admit aloud.

Catching up with the acolyte, who had stormed out of the library and was already halfway down the grand staircase that led to it, Heero huffed, "What are you doing?"

The acolyte stopped, his face more somber than angry now that he was faced only with Heero. "I don't follow your meaning," he said, sounding tired.

Thrusting the ruined pendant out towards the acolyte, Heero deadpanned, "Unless it was your intention to be cast out of the order, that was completely tactless."

"That's quite an accusation coming from you," the acolyte said with an affectionate chuckle, reaching out to clasp Heero's hand in his. Pressing the Kirin Tor pendant between their palms, the acolyte guided Heero down the steps. "But what's done is done," he shrugged. "I just suddenly wonder what good it is to be a great mage of the Kirin Tor if they never take any measures to exercise that power. I'm tired of standing around with my hands in the air when I know they are more than capable of shaping a solution."

Then he said no more and Heero was filled with a melancholy that threatened to send him toppling head over feet down the stairs.

Later, despite the panic that was consuming the rest of Dalaran, Heero and the acolyte found themselves locked in Heero's chambers, clothed only in afternoon sunbeams and dust motes as they made love sprawled across his bed. They hardly spoke as they tumbled across the duvet, falling into a rhythm that was almost forlorn – a silent expression of the uncertainty they both felt. All the while, Heero could hear hushed voice of his lover whispering the Thalassian promise of trust he'd sworn to him the first time they'd fallen into each other's arms, and he clung to it like it was the only truth he'd ever known.

And yet, when that same feeling of unease roused Heero in the middle of the night and found him alone in his bed, he could only sit in the darkness and stare at the diamond shaped pools of starlight leaking across his blankets. He knew where he was and why the acolyte had probably left, yet he had never before felt so lost and abandoned in his life. He'd crossed a line he had never intended to cross with the acolyte, and now that there was no returning, he elected then and there to steel his jaw and stop trying to care altogether.

Meanwhile, the acolyte was already leagues away, standing on the Southshore docks with nothing but the clothes on his back and the Kirin Tor pendant he'd pocketed as a keepsake from happier days. A great ship with black and crimson sails was moored in the harbour, a brigade of soldiers in red and white regalia loading it with supplies for the long voyage northward. Striding up to someone who looked in charge, he said, "I heard there was a faction of soldiers dedicated to eradicating the undead plague that has fouled the land was sailing for Northrend on the morning tide. Be this the brig that will bear them hence?"

The older man the acolyte was speaking to happened to be the captain of the ship, and he took a moment to look the stranger up and down before answering. "Aye, that be so," he said slowly once he'd decided that the acolyte had passed his inspection. He jerked a salty thumb at the ship, briefly explaining, "That be the _Sinner's Folly_, the flagship of the High General of the Scarlet Crusade. We sail for Northrend in hopes we can bring about a swift cleansing of Azeroth by our own methods without the hindrance we've found here."

The acolyte didn't need to hear much more. "Where do I sign up?" he asked flatly.

The captain gave him another once over and then grinned, his stretched lips revealing scurvy teeth. Digging into his coat, he pulled out a small ledger and said, "Right here, lad." He flicked open the tiny book and removed a broken pencil, which he held clumsily over the pages as he asked, "And your reason for joining up?"

"My brother," the acolyte answered swiftly. "Treize, that cur, forsook him to whatever poison has stolen peaceful rest from the dead just to feed his own ambition. I will see justice served – _revenge_, even." His conviction was firm and impassioned, the only thing that was fuelling him through the grim realization that his brother was never coming back from Northrend.

"And your name?" the captain asked, scratching something down in the ledger with scratchy lettering.

The acolyte took a moment to pause, closing his eyes and remembering his family – his brother and the man who had raised them like a father – and solemnly composed a new name for himself: one that would adequately serve to honour them even after he cast away his old life on these soon to be forgotten shores. Then he took a deep breath and spoke at long last:

"Maxwell. My name is Duo Maxwell."

TBC

Note

Duo's Thalassian is actually Sindarin Elvish, which I referenced from Tolkien's work because it is the basis for Warcraft's Elvish tongues. Read the Simarilion for more info.


	15. As Dead As Leaves

**Title: **_**The Forsaken**_

**Author: **Link Worshiper

**Pairings:** 1=2, maybe some others if I feel like it

**Rating: **PG-13

**Stuff:** Fantasy AU, fluff, sap, language, adventure, WoW nerdiness

**Disclaimer:** I own Gundam Wing action figures? Warcraft and its lore belongs to Blizzard Entertainment. Both things are being played with out of fangirl love.

Thanks to danse and Natea for the once over. Despite the fact this is part of Natea's birthday present, I still needed her to fill me in on the Alliance history they don't teach us on Horde, so thanks for that also =P

--

_Part XV_

_As Dead As Leaves_

--

"So that was the way of it," murmured Heero, still lying flat on the bed in Thelsamar, staring up at the dwarven ceiling overhead. His eyes stung a little bit, but his mouth was drawn into a tight line of ambivalence as he assessed what he'd just learned. He didn't deny Duo the anger he felt at the discovery that Treize had banished his entire platoon to a curse of undead servitude, but similarly, was unable to ignore his own resentment at being so abruptly abandoned. At the time, it had made him feel unimportant and tossed aside, which, the longer he'd lived with it, had only manifested until such despair had rooted itself too deeply in his heart to be easily cut away. Forgiving Duo would be easy enough: it would be dislodging that pain dealt with for so long that would prove difficult. With casual indifference, he sat up and asked blandly, "Well, then? Did you grasp the revenge you sought?"

"Not even obliterating the Lich King would bring my brother back from his hellish grave. My time with the Scarlets proved that," Duo said grimly from the spot he'd assumed on the edge of the bed. His skeletal and fleshy hands were pressed together between his knees as he stared down at the floor. "In the end, we accomplished nothing, damned to the same fate as all who seek to end Treize's rein over the dead. Even selling my soul for the same kind of power wasn't enough…. Nothing is ever enough…."

Heero didn't move, barely even turning his head to glance at the undead warlock who had once been the most important person in the world to him. He didn't care to hear anything about the Scarlet Onslaught or even how Duo had met his ultimate end; he just wanted some time to think. In the five years since he'd last seen Duo, he'd given him up for dead. Never did he imagine he would meet the acolyte again, and never, ever like this.

Letting out an ironic chuckle, Duo murmured, "Heh, I guess no matter how hard you try to force the hand of fate, fate still wins out in the end." He glanced over his shoulder, his eye sockets flickering a bit more softly than usual and then dimming to mere embers at Heero's unresponsiveness. The torn flesh around his mouth contorted into a frown and he muttered, "Or maybe I am just fortune's fool."

Abruptly, Heero sat up, inspired to comment at last. "You know, all this time, I had so much I've wanted to say to you – things that, without you there, weren't much worth saying at all," he said, his stiff posture reminiscent of the stubborn rogue that had crash landed in the Sepulcher than the youthful Dalaran scholar Duo used to know. "And yet, now that I am met with your ghost, it is as if I am completely without poetry."

Duo reached out for Heero, but his skeletal fingers only brushed empty air as Heero withdrew, turning away to glare at the other side of the room with a very pensive scowl scratched across his face. His shoulders drooping, Duo let out a heavy sigh: "Heero, I'm sorry," he pleaded as his hand dropped limply to his side. It was strange, but Duo thought he felt a stirring in his chest that he hadn't known since he'd died. "Forsooth, in the name of everything I've done, I offer a thousand apologies." Then he whispered softly, "You're the only one I ever wanted, Heero. But, you have to understand, even when I resented his ways, Solo was still my only brother…."

But as he watched Heero's silent, almost nonexistent reaction to his pleas, it was with painful clarity that Duo then realized that Heero had been left just as dead as he for the past five years. He wished there was a way he could prove to Heero that his intentions were no different beyond the grave than they had been when they had breathed together, though he supposed it was stupid hoping that Heero would have thought otherwise. With a low growl, he blindly reached out to pound the nearby wall with the butt of his fist, frustrated that death had forever dried the tears he longed to shed. Not that it even mattered if Heero wouldn't so much as look at him.

Heero, however, had long since fallen to another plane of reality, staring at nothing, and yet seeing everything so clearly. The room was twinged with a hazy green that seemed to sharpen his vision as a familiar whisper – the very one that had whispered into his ear when they'd left Menethil Harbour – hissed vibrantly in his ear: _'Aren't you tired of starting somewhere new over and over again? It only cracks your heart more and more….'_ Heero let out a small gurgle of agreement, and the voice continued pulsating throughout his brain. _'Why allow him to shape your reality? Crush him the way he crushed you, and let him know what real despair is….'_

At this, Heero sucked in a sharp breath, a dangerous smirk beginning to twist away his frown. Slowly turning around to face Duo, Heero's lips pulled back to reveal an unfamiliar sharpness in his canine teeth, his eyelids unveiling red irises that burned with unnatural fury. "I will always be alone," he growled in a voice that echoed with a fel timbre; "That is how you left me, and that is how I will stay!" With that, he suddenly leapt for Duo, teeth bared like he meant to sink them into Duo's throat.

It didn't take long for Duo to realize that the Epyon demon had managed to latch onto the turbulent emotions their unexpected reunion had awakened in Heero. He dove for the floor, narrowly avoiding Heero as he careened into the oaken headboard. Blindly groping for his staff, Duo watched as Heero mindlessly shook off his collision and repositioned himself at the edge of the mattress, poised to make another leap for Duo. The warlock was barely able to swing his staff around to bar Heero's attack, the wooden pole the only barrier between Duo's face and Heero's snapping teeth. With a mighty shove, Duo hurled Heero off, sending the rogue flying into a chest of drawers on the other side of the room. Heero landed awkwardly on the ground, slumped against the furniture piece in a mess of painfully twisted limbs. But any pain he might have felt at such an impact seemed not to matter to him, for he was soon clambering to his feet again, panting hard and even more enraged than before. Pulling down an axe that had been hanging on the nearby wall, Heero grasped the weapon in both hands, getting a feel for it as he prepared to charge again. His demonic eyes made him look not at all like himself, a curling black aura that resembled an ifrit hovering in the air above him, influencing his mindless onslaught.

The very sight of the monster was enough to bring Duo to his wit's end, ready to fight fire with fire. The Epyon demon was a creation of the Burning Legion's dark overlord, but Duo's own power was also cut from the same mold, a discipline he had traded his old elemental magic for after realizing that it would never be enough to stand up to the Lich King. Learning how to command demons of his own might have been unorthodox – even hypocritical – under the banner of the Scarlet Onslaught, but their zealous obsession with obliterating Treize far outweighed any moral code they may have once adhered to, and it was with ease that a number of Scarlet priests and mages fell to this dark study. And unsurprisingly, it was none other than Duo who had forged the path for the rest, using the talent that had earned him the mark of the Kirin Tor to become one of the most deadly warlocks of the Onslaught. "Forgive me, sweet prince," Duo whispered before he began muttering the spell that would summon his own fel warrior from the dark chaos that birthed the Burning Legion.

Soon, a black portal of nothingness had opened up beside Duo, and out from its depths stepped a tall, horned figure that carried a broadsword and wore blood red armour. Steeling himself, Duo pointed at Heero and gave the command, "Subdue him." Almost instantly, the fel guard started lumbering towards Heero, who was practically frothing at the mouth for a fight.

No sooner had their weapons met with a violent clang did the door of the room suddenly burst open, revealing a trio of confused and riled dwarves demanding to know what was going on. "I told ye not ta trust the likes o' that ghoul!" one of them shouted as they all pushed into the room, their faction allegiance immediately leading them to assume that it was Duo who had instigated the mayhem. They started to rush towards Heero's side, and it was only a fierce yelp from Duo that saved their necks from the bite of Heero's madly swinging axe.

"You must have a death wish!" Duo hissed as the dwarves fell back, trembling a bit. They stared at Duo, aghast, almost as if they were unsure that assisting an undead Horde loyalist was much better than being killed. But the more they saw, the reality of the situation became all the more apparent, and it was with reluctance that each of them unsheathed blades and axes of their own.

--

As another desert fly whizzed by Trowa's face, he instinctively slapped it against his cheek, too irate to even notice the sting of his fingers against his skin. After three hours of waiting alone by moonlight at the mouth of the Badlands, Trowa was starting to wonder what had become of Heero and Duo. He had expected to beat them to the end of the loch easily, but he hadn't thought they would be so far behind, and the longer he loitered, the less he liked it.

"Knew those dwarves would be trouble," he grumbled to Heavypaw, frowning back at the huge loch behind him. He rocked back and forth on his heels, hating that he already had sand between his toes before even setting foot in the barren desert that would make up the next leg of the journey. He shook one foot, though it did nothing for the discomfort in his boots, glowering at the loch once again. "If we have to go back," he continued for Heavypaw's benefit, "it will only be so I can kill the pair of them myself."

Heavypaw let out a monstrous yawn, which was completely unhelpful to Trowa. The elf turned his discontented stare to his pet, but the animal barely took notice. Groaning, Trowa rolled his eyes and turned back towards Loch Modan. "Why do I suffer fools so easily?" he demanded of the sky, his hands upturned claws of frustration. Angrily he kicked a small rock by his foot, and though he managed to send it aloft, the pain that shot through his big toe was far more noticeable. Reluctant as he was to admit it, he knew he wouldn't sleep well if he went on his way knowing that he had left his best friend to fend off dwarves with only his silly human pet to aid him. Even more reluctantly still, he worried what that priest would do if he found out about it. With another long sigh, he started to trudge back towards the loch, Heavypaw trotting obediently at his heels.

As he neared the hills that cradled Thelsamar, he heard shouting long before he actually laid eyes on the town itself. Now more than certain that there was an altercation of some kind going on, he picked up his pace, sprinting down into the gully with his bow at the ready. His eyes darted around, searching for Duo or Heero, but the streets were empty even as the sound of commotion became more and more prevalent. The paradox of his surroundings was more than enough to put the blood elf on edge, and he didn't like it one bit.

Suddenly, a pair of dwarves burst out of a nearby building, hurrying right by Trowa as if they didn't even see him, despite his height. Trowa tracked them with narrowed eyes, turning around as they rushed towards another building further up the street. "Hey. _Hey_!" he shouted after them, nocking an arrow and aiming for their backs. "You there! Dwarves! Stop!"

The two dwarves, a male and a female, skidded to a halt, turning around with restlessness that seemed to have more to do with urgency than fear. Amazingly enough, the female didn't even wait to hear what Trowa had to say, despite the arrow that he had directed at her chest. Instead, she asked, "Are ye here t'elp us wif th' demon wot possessed our guest?" She looked him up and down, obviously thorough enough to note that Trowa wore the colours of Silvermoon and not Stormwind despite the fact that it seemed completely irrelevant to her. "Ye best be," she went on. "I kin tell ye that he'll be killin' all o' us a' this rate."

She then quickly turned around and continued on her way, while the male dwarf lingered long enough to add, "She be speakin' th' truth, lad." He pointed back towards the building they had just left, directing Trowa to it: "That way if'n your bow be ready," he said before hurrying after his female companion.

Trowa lowered his bow as the scurried off, an ironic smirk quirking his lips. _'Lad?'_ he thought with a snort; _'I have certainly lived four times over what they ever will.'_ Shaking himself of such distractions, he turned his attention back to the building the dwarves had indicated and started for it, absently noting that it was the village inn. Yells and the skirmish of battle echoed from deep inside the building, which burrowed straight into the rock of the hills, and he quickly followed the sounds to the top of the stairwell in the back.

"Ready, friend?" he asked Heavypaw as he padded up to Trowa's side, tensed for action. Sensing the lion's eagerness, Trowa nodded and took a running leap over the edge of the stairs, dropping into a low crouch when he hit the floor, while Heavypaw darted around the angular flights to meet his master at the bottom. Then they both charged forward, instinctively attracted to the vigor of battle straight ahead.

By the time Duo had noticed his presence with a surprised gasp of his name, Trowa had already assessed the situation and taken action, throwing his bow to the side to launch himself headlong into Heero. He tackled the possessed rogue to the ground, knocking the axe out of his hand and the breath from his lungs. The dwarves that had been trying to fend Heero off tried to rush in to back Trowa up, but the elf sharply ordered them back as he gripped Heero harshly by the throat. "You're making all our lives difficult," Trowa growled as Heero tried to fight back despite the tightening fingers around his neck.

"Trowa, you're going to kill him!" Duo shouted from the other side of the room. His fel guard demon loitered beside him, erect and unmoving as a statue as it awaited its master's next command. Wringing his hands as he was wont to do when aggravated, Duo snapped, "I thought I told you that it wouldn't do for _anyone_ if he turns up dead!"

"I remember," Trowa bit out, though he didn't relent his hold on Heero's neck. "But this nonsense will cease right now!" Turning his attention back to Heero, who was still struggling against him, Trowa redirected the sentiment: "Do you hear me in there, human? You will desist!" He lifted Heero's head just enough to crack it against the floor, hoping to dislodge the demon's grip on Heero's mind. "I know it is difficult to ignore the whispers, but for the love of the Sunwell, you must do as I say!"

The dwarves watched with almost shellshocked horror as Trowa continued to scream at Heero's blank face. But as he lingered, the demonic aura began to envelope both of them, and then Heero's lips began to move, though the voice that escaped his mouth was strange to all of them. "Why do you resissst the chaos, Prince of the Sssunbender clan?" it hissed at Trowa, whose grip on Heero's throat slowly loosened at the sound of it. "Leave me be, and together, we can fight on behalf of the desspair of your people…."

It was the mesmerized expression on Trowa's face that finally compelled Duo to take a stand, Slamming the butt of his staff against the stone floor, he shouted, "Trowa, don't listen to it! That's exactly what it told _Heero_, and look where it got him!" Knowing his words weren't going to be enough, Duo cast his staff aside and marched right up to Heero and Trowa, appearing behind the latter to cuff him in a tight head lock. "If you lay another finger on him, I swear to Elune, Trowa, I will break your damned neck."

Trowa seemed to not hear Duo or even be cognizant of the arms wrapped dangerously around his neck, threatening to squeeze. Rather, he was transfixed on the demonic, red eyes glowing in Heero's skull, almost as if they were luring him. He suddenly had no interest in Heero whatsoever, too consumed by the promising offer the demon had just laid out for him. The Sin'dorei were so desperate as it was, the prospect of aid – even from the most undesirable of sources – was tempting to the prince of the nearly extinct race. Or so the demon was leading Trowa to believe. Dully, Trowa's hands slipped from Heero's throat, aching to latch onto another: specifically that of the one whose arms were now fastened around his own.

"If I knew you were going to be so meddlesome, I would have left you behind!" Duo growled, tightening his hold around Trowa's neck as the elf started to stir. His voice dropping into a low growl, he said, "Don't think I'm above killing you, Trowa Sunbender: you're toeing a dangerous line with the caustic way you toss Heero about, and I don't like it." He suddenly jabbed a bony knee into Trowa's back, cracking his spine over it as he yanked back on the elf's head. The onlooking dwarves had stepped far back, taking in the scene in a trance that somewhat mirrored Trowa's. They were almost unable to believe that a Forsaken warlock would quarrel with a blood elf over the wellbeing of a human. Such a thing was almost more surreal than the presence of a demon.

As all this was going on, Heero watched with the eyes of a somnambulist. He was vaguely aware of Trowa trying to choke him and that he and Duo were now grappling with each other, though he wasn't quite sure what had initiated the fight. Somewhere, beneath the crushing sadness that had overwhelmed him, a little piece of him knew exactly what was going on, though try as he might to shout that he was in there, no one seemed to hear. He felt as though he was being stretched, his heightened emotions ebbing in and out of him like an erratic breath. But the more he struggled, the more he simply lashed out: his flailing legs threatening to buck both Trowa and Duo onto their backs, his punches raining down forcefully upon whatever he could reach. He was frustrated and terribly frightened by the lack of control, but such negative emotions only egged the demon inside further on. With Trowa and Duo busy trying to choke the life out of each other, it left Heero plenty of freedom to shakily clamber to his feet, panting heavily as he instinctively threw himself into the chaos without even a care or moment's hesitation.

"Back, I say!" Trowa roared, throwing Heero off just as the possessed rogue was about to sink his teeth into his shoulder. But disengaging Heero's attack wasn't enough for Trowa, who quickly turned his back on Duo to refocus his rage on Heero. Pulling a small dagger from the inside of one sleeve, he charged at Heero, blade poised for attack. He barely managed to get more than a few steps in, because no sooner had he made his intent clear did Duo snatch him by the hood of his cloak and yank him flat onto his back. Once Trowa managed to recapture the air in his lungs, he used his first breath to gasp up at Duo, "You've either lost your mind in death, or you truly are cursed! It is as if you would have me fed to the dogs before that troublesome human!" Dragging himself to his knees in a most ungraceful and un-elf-like fashion, he jabbed a finger at Heero and hissed accusingly, "What duty is it that puts that cur above your greatest friend?"

Duo aggressively swiped his hand across Trowa's chest, grabbing a handful of Trowa's tabard to haul him to his feet and lock his burning stare with Trowa's unimpressed one: "It is not duty that compels me," he said tightly before letting his passion get the better of him. He then exploded helplessly, "T'is only _him_ that could make me do as I do."

As these words left his lips, from the corner of his eye, Duo barely caught a glimpse of Heero faltering behind Trowa. Suddenly, he let out a grisly roar, throwing his head back like he was trying to banish the demon from his person, and amazingly enough, the haunting obeyed. The fog of the demon's presence lifted from his face and evaporated into nothingness, leaving Heero to grasp desperately for something to lean on lest he collapse to the floor. Chest heaving, he clawed his tunic in search of the heart he didn't believe was still beating, all the while sucking in enormous gulps of air and staring at nothing.

It was one of the dwarves who thought to break the awkward tension that still lingered in the destroyed bedroom. With a hardly subtle cough, he stepped towards Heero, asking, "Lad, be ye yerself again?"

But Heero, still panting harshly, only stared back at the dwarf as if he didn't understand the words. Trowa narrowed his eyes at the dwarf before shooting Duo a dark stare and abrasively knocking Duo's loosened fingers from his clothing. Without a word, he whistled for Heavypaw and snatched up his bow, marching back towards the stairs with a disgruntled air no one but him understood. Duo frowned after him and then let it go, returning his attention to Heero, who seemed more in need of him than Trowa anyway.

However, Heero didn't seem to share the same mind as Duo. As Duo tried to reach out for him, Heero bit out abrasively, "Leave me alone!"

The dwarves scattered at Heero's command almost immediately, leaving Heero and Duo alone once more. At first Duo thought Heero was still shaken from his recent encounter with the demon but for the look in his eye that was sodden with uncertainty and distrust. He wanted to believe that the wounded expression on Heero's face might have been a sign that the demon was still there, though he knew that the truth of it was because of him. A sharp pain thumped in his chest: he didn't want to let it bother him, yet he still thought he might explode. Hoarsely, he breathed, "Heero, why do you turn me away?"

The corners of Heero's mouth were weighted with malcontent. "If you have to ask, then you'll never know," he said coldly, furrowing his brows angrily.

"Heero," Duo rasped, suddenly more aware of his fate's burden than ever before. "Please, you have to believe that my word is true – that I never meant to leave you alone."

"That doesn't change the fact that you did," Heero retorted carelessly, leaning heavily against the foot of the bed as he continued to fight for a solid breath. "You stepping out of the shadows and back into my world after five years doesn't make me any less so, either. The hole you bore into my soul will leave me forever a misfit whether you're here or not, dead or alive."

After feeling nothing since the day he'd died, the dizzying sensations overwhelming Duo at these harsh realities were almost too much for him to bear. He wanted to sit down, but rather made a show of picking up his staff so he could lean upon it instead. "I've given all I can," he murmured, a masochistic reminder of everything he'd fought so long for. "I've given all I can and all been for naught." He paused for a moment, silently entreating Heero to trust him the way he once did, crestfallen to find that worn out darkness was all that remained for him in the rogue.

"You stretch your words like rubber," Heero said flatly. "Your promise to help free me from this demon's curse is worth no more than your promise to love me. With such hollow vows, I might as well save what little of my self still remains on my own."

"You learned to trust me from nothing before," Duo returned, disheartened by the barricade that now loomed between them. "Why does only a memory shatter all that you have come to know of me?"

"You did this to yourself," said Heero with a glare flashing in his dark blue eyes could have seared flesh. "You and no one else."

With a huff that sagged his bent frame even more, Duo persisted, "But I want to make it right!"

But Heero's only answer was to snap, "What the hell are you still doing here? You don't belong here." He added almost inaudibly, "Not anymore."

It pained Duo to think that he had been the one to break Heero so, and it was with a heavy heart that he finally turned away from the rogue. If only there were a way to make his words sound as sincere to Heero as they were to Duo, but he knew the hope was futile. Unable to even glance back at Heero, Duo whispered in parting: "Whatever makes you happy, my prince: whatever you want."

Drifting like a spectre, Duo aimlessly stumbled out of the room and back up the stairs to the inn's lobby. There was a dwarf sitting behind the front desk as if everything was normal, which Duo secretly resented with a hateful passion that was so intense, he nearly gave into the impulse to set the unaware dwarf aflame. It was only with the greatest of self-control that he managed to walk out to the street without upsetting the delicate armistice that still lay, unspoken, with the dwarves of this town. He was unsurprised to find that Trowa had long since ventured on without them, and it was only then that he was truly struck with the gravity of how alone he was.

So alone, that he'd managed to lose even himself.

--

TBC


	16. Crazy Diamond

**Title: **_**The Forsaken**_

**Author: **Link Worshiper

**Pairings:** 1=2, maybe some others if I feel like it

**Rating: **PG-13

**Stuff:** Fantasy AU, fluff, sap, language, adventure, WoW nerdiness

**Disclaimer:** I own Gundam Wing action figures? Warcraft and its lore belongs to Blizzard Entertainment. Both things are being played with out of fangirl love.

Thanks to danse and Natea for the once over. Despite the fact this is part of Natea's birthday present, I still needed her to fill me in on the Alliance history they don't teach us on Horde, so thanks for that also =P

Thanks to danse and Natea for the once over. Despite the fact this is part of Natea's birthday present, I still needed her to fill me in on the Alliance history they don't teach us on Horde, so thanks for that also =P

Also, sorry this chapter is a bit short, but I felt bad that it's taken me so long to post more, since I basically deleted and rewrote this entire chapter from the ground up after I decided I hated what I'd done so far. I hope it's still good enough!!

--

_Chapter XVI_

_Crazy Diamond _

--

For almost three days, Heero kept himself prisoner in the wrecked guestroom at the inn, too depressed to even drag himself from the bed upon which he'd flung himself the moment he'd ordered Duo from his presence. For five years since he'd last seen Duo alive, Heero had adamantly forced himself into a state of constant indifference, refusing to feel sorry for himself. He slipped between the cracks, also stealing from Dalaran in the dead of night not too long after to make for Stormwind, where he'd planned to start his life anew in an unfamiliar city of strangers. But after squandering all he had but for the enchanted owl charm he wore about his neck, Heero fell onto more desperate times, which left his hands seeking coin from the pockets of Stormwind's unsuspecting townspeople.

It wasn't long before his dubious efforts to land on his feet caught the attention of a man that was simply called Jay, who caught Heero trying to palm a few gold coins from his purse in the market one day. Impressed with Heero's skill despite the blunder, he asked Heero if he'd like to be recruited and trained for a secret guild of rogues that served the king on more discreet missions. And Heero, happy to have anything to keep himself moving forward, was quick to sign the charter.

Yet despite such Herculean efforts to keep his past buried and forgotten, he had come around to the beginning once more. Mere days ago, he had felt as though this excursion with Duo and Trowa was fast becoming one of the most enlightening experiences of his life, and now he could only find the memories of their adventure repugnant. His brow hardened and his lips tightened at the thought, mulling over every instance they had shared since he'd made the laughable mistake of seeking Duo's assistance with the sigil: had it all been some kind of amusement to the warlock? He was certain that Duo had been glibly leading him along on a string since they'd met in the Sepulcher, for he was almost positive that Duo had quickly figured out who he was even before they had exchanged names. Duo had teased him the same way he had teased away his innocence in his youth. The whole thing left the taste of betrayal on his tongue, though he supposed that if he wished enough, even the wisest man could tell lies.

But now, he was left wondering what he ought to do next. Ideally, he'd have liked to flee the whole damned lot of it, but he knew that it wasn't quite that simple. Much as he was loath to do so, he was left trying to remember what clues Duo had left regarding the appropriate steps to cleansing his soul of the Epyon demon. The only person he could think of who might be able to help him was Quatre, but unfortunately, Trowa still had his owl charm. He was unsure if he'd be able to survive a voyage back to Theramore in his current condition, but at the moment, it was the best plan he had. The more he thought about it, the more comfortable he found himself with whatever fate was in store for him. After all, any place was better than here: starting from zero, he had nothing to lose.

It was only with such resolve that Heero managed to pry himself from the confines of the bed on the fourth day since the sundering of their fellowship. His sudden appearance in the lounge area of the inn, however, was met with surprise and uncertainty, but Heero was beyond caring. He supposed he didn't blame them for their concern since he had done nothing but wreck havoc on their little town. Cautiously, he stepped towards the innkeeper's desk, where a graying dwarf perched on the edge of a tall stool. Firmly pressing his palm against the oaken countertop, Heero fixed a pointed glare on the dwarf, silently entreating him to look up from his records and meet his cold stare. He could feel the eyes of all the other dwarves in the lounge scrutinizing his every move from behind him. Out of the corner of one eye, he was sure he saw one of them poise his hand over the pommel of his dirk.

It was with equal caution that the innkeeper lifted his eyes up towards Heero. Trying his best to mask his fear, he said stoutly, "Kinnae 'elp ye, lad?"

Heero only narrowed his eyes, but he didn't acknowledge the dwarf's obvious distrust of him any more. "Supplies and rations," he said curtly. "I need them."

The innkeeper let out a sigh of relief that wasn't so easy to mask, though he was quick to regain his composure. "An' wot ye be needin' in the lands ye be farin' ta?"

"Just enough to get back to Menethil Harbour that I might catch a tide to Theramore," Heero explained briefly, hoping the dwarf wouldn't press much further. He didn't feel obliged to explain the details of his circumstance to anyone, much less a stranger.

"Tha's a real voyage," said the innkeeper, sliding off his stool and disappearing behind the height of the desk. The sounds of rummaging could be heard as he rustled through the wares he kept to sell to departing guests. Clambering back up onto the stool with a small rucksack filled with biscuits and dried fruit in tow, which he tossed across the countertop to Heero, he said, "Are ye sure ye kin make it all tha' way alive?"

There was no suppressing the ire that suddenly built up within Heero at such a thinly veiled insinuation. "Just what do you mean by that?" he snapped, angrily snatching the rucksack off the desktop with a speed that startled the innkeeper. "I am not an invalid or incompetent," he growled before turning his rage on the rest of the room, who was, no doubt, thinking the same things the innkeeper had dared to voice. "In my short life, I have survived thrice the things I'm sure you or any of your kin ever will. If only you knew the curses I've endured: it would surely give you pause."

"Cursed, is 'ee?" muttered a dwarf on the other side of the lounge; "Surely 'ee'd doom any vessel 'ee set foot 'pon."

But despite the hushed tone the dwarf had spoken in, Heero heard his comment anyway, and it only did to further his temper. Taking a few aggravated steps towards the offending dwarf, a hand lingering dangerously close to the dagger at his hip, Heero growled, "My life was doomed from the first moment I drew breath. Now, all I seek is the promise of a peaceful rest, even if I must adventure until the moment I breathe no more." Stooping so that he might impale the dwarf with his deadly glower, he finished with a hiss, "So unless you might have a word or two that suggests a way to break the evil carving which holds me captive, then say none at all lest you wish to meet the edge of my blade."

The dwarf swallowed and then abruptly turned away, eyeing at the tassels edging the carpet upon which they stood. Heero barely had time to let his disgust at such a cowardly action show before the voice of another dwarf interrupted the awkward tension that was building in the room. The commanding voice that spoke came from the fiery haired dwarf that had captured Heero and Duo and brought them to Thelsamar in the first place. Faulkner was his name, and as a proud captain of the Ironforge ranks, it was his duty to oversee the protection of this outpost by the loch.

"A tool tha' might aid ye lies closer than Theramore, rogue," Faulker said, his voice thick with the brogue of his people. Everyone turned to look at him and he easily commanded their attention once they realized who he was.

Forgetting the impetuous dwarf who had just insulted him and turning to face Faulkner as he crossed the room, Heero straightened to his full height, which, while average for a human, was still impressive compared to a dwarf. Crossing his arms, he squared his shoulders and frowned down at the dwarf captain as he asked, "And of what exactly do you speak?" His voice was flat with the monotony of doubt.

"A sacred an' magical chisel, young 'un," answered Faulkner promptly, not about to be intimidated by Heero's size or his attitude. "It is a relic reputed t'be hidin' in the depths o' th' Uldaman ruins in yon Badlands. Th' stories even say t'was even used by the old Titans to hew our own flesh from th' rock when they created us." Faulkner boldly grabbed one of the buckles of Heero's gauntlet and jerked him low so that he might add in a whisper, "'Tis said that it kin even cut through stone tha' be tainted with th' mos' evil magics." He arched his bushy eyebrows at Heero, sending him a most knowing and significant look before releasing his glove.

Heero squared himself at his full height once more, though his face remained locked in the somber expression the dwarves had grown accustomed to seeing. A part of him remained dubious of such a claim, but he had heard of the excavations of the recently unearthed Uldaman and the fantastic treasures that the ancient temple had kept secret for eons. No one quite knew what Uldaman had been built for, or the true depths of its mysteries, but it was at least certain that it was a testament to the old days, when gods walked the earth.

But there was something more prominent on his mind than whether or not the power of the Titan gods was entombed in Uldaman, and that was how Faulkner had come to know the details of his plight. Frowning down at the dwarf, Heero said stiffly, "Come and speak further with me in secret," and finished with a menacing glint in his eyes: "I must know whether or not you mean to aid me or send me to an early grave."

He stalked to the door of the inn and flashed the rest of the room another unfriendly scowl before sweeping over the threshold for the quiet of the outside street. Faulkner followed, not at all mussed by Heero's behaviour, though it was clear that the rest of the other dwarves all shared a concern for his safety that made up for the captain's lack thereof.

The moment they were out of earshot and secluded enough for Heero's liking, the rogue whirled on Faulkner, grasping the clip that held the dwarf's cloak around his neck and lifting him clean off the ground. "What are you playing at? Tell me true, lest I drag you into a shadow you will never leave," Heero threatened, quivering a little.

Still calm as ever, Faulkner responded evenly, "Ye think I'd go all me years an' never 'ave 'eard of th' thing which haunts ye? It didn't take long ta puzzle out what ye be doin' in these parts after I over'eard ye an' tha' 'lock."

The mere mention of Duo made Heero flinch, and he suddenly released Faulkner, sending the poor dwarf crashing to the ground. Pressing a cruel boot heel into Faulkner's chest, Heero pinned him in his place as he ground out, "And just what, pray tell, would that be?"

It was here that Faulkner dared allow a smirk of triumph to tweak his lips, which even his wild beard could not hide. "Do ye really think I kin be in th' service o' King Bronzebeard an' not 'ave 'eard what King Milliardo plans for th' Alliance?" He coughed a bit as Heero drove his heel even deeper into the dwarf's chest, but he didn't allow it to stay his upper hand: "Tut tut, lad, wot will th' king be thinkin' when 'ee 'ears that one 'ee presumed dead still walks 'ee earth – an' wif th' very trinket 'ee was bade retrieve in 'is own possession!" He shook his head, adding, "T'will be a sad day in Stormwind when 'er choice 'ero must see th' 'angin' tree fer treason…."

"Your words are meaningless," Heero snapped, unable to keep himself from letting the toe of his boot clock Faulkner upside the chin. "I keep this cursed sigil not out of want but duty! It would destroy all of Azeroth just as it is destroying me if I were to deliver it to His Majesty."

With one hand his only barrier between Heero's kicking foot and his face, Faulkner managed to say, "Aye, but if ye destroy th' sigil, then ye a liar no longer be! Do ye not see, lad?"

Heero, who was really just more frustrated than angry, at least still had the peace of mind to step off once he realized that the dwarf truly meant him no harm. Stumbling back a few paces, he, too, collapsed to the ground, landing on his ass and staring almost blankly at Faulkner, who was shakily trying to sit up as well. "Oh, I understand that well enough, sir," Heero said, sound calmer than he'd ever been since he'd come to Thelsamar. "It's just, without that warlock… I haven't a clue how to go about it and it makes me nervous taking direction from people I don't…." His eyes shifted to the side, trying hard to come up with another word, but annoyed that the only way he could think to finish was: "…from people I don't trust."

Faulkner let out a long whistle at this, shaking his head in amazement. "'Ee really was yer comrade, eh?" he marveled, digging through his hip pouch for a pipe and some tobacco. "In all me long years, I 'ent never seen a thing like 'et." Pushing the mouthpiece of his newly found pipe through the red thistle of his beard, Faulkner stuffed a small wad of tobacco in the bowl and then promptly lit it, breathing in deeply before exhaling a series of smoke rings. "But ye know somefink," he continued, relaxing now that that was in order, "T'ain't noffin' more powerful or amazin' as a true comrade. Th' ones that're there in th' thick o' 'et – those are ye real allies, 'Orde, Alliance or otherwise." Nodding firmly, he went back to puffing on his pipe.

Heero frowned as he brooded on the dwarf's wise words. He wanted to say that Duo had proven himself the exact opposite of that with his actions, and yet, in the end of it, he knew that it had been he who had sent him away. He didn't want to think of himself as someone petty or fickle, determinedly reminding himself why he had been right to do what he had, though it didn't do much to ease the weight in the pit of his stomach. He didn't understand that despite all the resentment he had carried towards Duo for so long, all he could think about was their every last goodbye, wondering why it was he even cared.

"Lad…."

Heero snapped to attention, startled from his tortured thoughts by Faulkner's voice. He didn't want to admit it to himself, but he had almost caught himself wishing Duo was still there. Reason continued to protest, even as his lost soul wept, but he knew there was only one way to go from there, and that was onwards. Duo was his past, and that was where it was best he stayed, Heero thought with a firm nod. He then stood, which Faulkner took as some kind of affirmation of this new quest, quickly putting out his pipe and clambering to his feet as well.

With another grin that was hard for even his bushy beard to mask, Faulkner said, "I'll jus' be drawin' ye a map 'afore ye leave," and for the first time in a while, Heero felt as if his life had finally taken a new direction.


	17. Blood and Thunder

**Title: **_**The Forsaken**_

**Author: **Link Worshiper

**Pairings:** 1=2, maybe some others if I feel like it

**Rating: **PG-13

**Stuff:** Fantasy AU, fluff, sap, language, adventure, WoW nerdiness

**Disclaimer:** I own Gundam Wing action figures? Warcraft and its lore belongs to Blizzard Entertainment. Both things are being played with out of fangirl love.

Thanks to danse and Natea for the once over. Despite the fact this is part of Natea's birthday present, I still needed her to fill me in on the Alliance history they don't teach us on Horde, so thanks for that also =P

**Note:** I just want to make it clear to people reading this that though this story is a Warcraft fusion, it is first and foremost a Gundam Wing fic. Specifically, it is more of a fusion with the _lore_ of Warcraft as opposed to the actual game. Therefore, not everything found in the game is going to be reproduced here, and though there might be an occasional in-joke here and there, for the most part, the general mechanics of the game are left out. I should hope that most people are aware of this, because I am getting kind of annoyed with reviews that complain about things working differently in game. Anyway, rant over! Hope the rest of you are enjoying this.

--

_Part XVII_

_Blood and Thunder _

--

For the first time in almost a century, Trowa Sunbender found himself hopelessly lost. He supposed it was his own fault for storming off with aimless course after Duo had betrayed his loyalty, but he had been too angry to stop and consider what he best ought to do next when getting as far away from Thelsamar seemed so much more important at the time. Now he found himself treading along harrowing mountain passes that were caked with dirt that was charred and grey. He could not tell what time it was or how long it had been since he'd started out on his own, for the sky above was blotted by an impenetrable, black haze of cloud. In the distance, he could see a great mountain that belched fire rising up above the jagged peaks that stabbed at the unfriendly air, and it was by this landmark that he set his course, though reason told him that there was probably very little good to be found in such a place. Heavypaw's trepidation at venturing any further into this blasted land was indicator enough, but Trowa ignored his pet: such an evil place was bound to have a plethora of evil creatures just ripe for slaying, and there was no other way Trowa would rather blow off steam.

Sliding down an ashen slope to the foothills of the dark mountain range in the distance, Trowa couldn't help the spiteful thoughts that came to mind when his mind wandered back to Heero and Duo. How dare that puny warlock tell him, lord of all the Sin'dorei, that the affection of a sniveling human was more important to him! Had they not been the greatest of friends? Trowa snorted at the memory as he wandered onwards, determined to never allow himself the weakness of having friends ever again. Unless, of course, there was some sort of way he could benefit out of the camaraderie, an amendment he hastily came to terms with when he remembered his reliance on Heero's priest friend. "That's different," he told Heavypaw, who didn't seem to care either way.

He paused for a moment beneath a cindered tree, considering the priest for a moment as his hand absently trailed towards the pouch where he had secured the stolen owl charm. Next to his face, the ominous remnants of a noose swayed eerily in the hot breeze. Would Quatre still be willing to help him if he knew that he had abandoned his friend? The notion did not sit incredibly well with Trowa, particularly when he tried to reason why Quatre made any more difference in his life than Heero and Duo had. "It's because he's useful to me, whereas this is no longer so for Duo," Trowa concluded aloud for the benefit of Heavypaw, who still didn't care. He elaborated: "No loyal friend has ever been there for me, so goodbye!"

That sounded much more assuring to Trowa's ears, and he nodded firmly to himself. Any sorrow on Duo's part for what had come to pass would be too late. But just as he was about to shoulder that resolve and march onwards without another pause to look back, he was suddenly alerted to the presence of another. Unsure if he would find friend or foe, he scanned the area for shelter and, upon spotting a large boulder, quickly darted behind it. From there, he had a good vantage point of the road and the tree he had just been loitering under, and with his breath trapped in his belly, he waited to see who would appear.

He soon espied a small band of Dark Iron dwarves on the path, and it was then that Trowa realized that he had somehow wandered into the smoldering valley they had claimed as their homeland. He had only ever heard whispers of this desolate area at the heart of the Redrock mountain range, which the banished Dark Iron clan had destroyed in the service of the fire elemental they called their lord and master. It was said that it was from this burnt land that they were ever at work in their machinations to exterminate the other dwarves of Azeroth, and what he witnessed with his own eyes seemed to give claim to exactly that.

The quartet of Dark Irons flanked a single orc in bondage, who was being forced to drag an enormous anvil by himself. The orc was so covered in soot that he was hardly recognizable from a golem, his heaving shoulders the only indicator that he was of flesh and blood. One of the Dark Irons wielded a whip with which he drove the orc on with brutal lashes, while the others were each armed with sturdy dirks and chain mail. The entire spectacle made Trowa gnash his teeth in rage as he grabbed for an arrow to nock in his bowstring.

The first arrow caught the Dark Irons completely by surprise, finding its mark deep in the neck of one of the guards. The others immediately dragged to a halt, frantically trying to find the source of the attack. Trowa didn't allow them enough time to distinguish his location before he let the next arrow fly, wounding the slave driver in the thigh. As the dwarf bent to rip the arrow from his flesh, Trowa burst from hiding, Heavypaw dashing ahead to leap at the incapacitated target. While Heavypaw was engaged with that, Trowa moved on to the other two guards, who he prepared to take on with the small knife he kept in his boot.

These other two Dark Irons, after seeing their other comrades fall, weren't caught as unawares. As Trowa launched himself at the first one, he had his dirk out, already swinging it for Trowa's throat. Their blades clanged with a spark, and it was only Trowa's size advantage that allowed him to stave off the Dark Iron's dexterous onslaught. Still, the dwarf managed to catch Trowa just above the cuff of his bracer, cutting him deep enough to bleed. The injury send a painful sting up into Trowa's shoulder, but he didn't have time to stop and tend to it, far too busy trying to keep himself alive as the other Dark Iron saw fit to join into the fray. Wrestling one to the ground and fighting to bury his knife into a major artery, Trowa was only able to survive thanks to Heavypaw, who, after finishing off his prey, quickly ran to the aid of his master. The large cat, elf and two dwarves tore at each other in frenzied combat, knives and claws flying so haphazardly, it was likely they were each just as dangerous to ally as they were to enemy.

At long last, Trowa finally managed to stab one of the Dark Irons through his temple, which allowed him to help Heavypaw subdue the other with much more ease. Once he was satisfied that all the Dark Irons were dead enough for his liking, Trowa rose to his full height, panting and covered with the dark spatter of dried blood. His wounded arm still hurt, but he had gotten somewhat used to the pain and continued to ignore tending to it in favour of helping the imprisoned orc out of his bonds.

The moment the ash-caked orc was no longer bound to the anvil, he sunk down on one knee and bowed his head at his saviour. "Thank you, Prince of the Sin'dorei," he said, discreetly wiping the soot from his face. Before Trowa had a chance to ask how the orc was able to so easily recognize him, the orc looked up to meet his eyes and said, "I, Wufei Hellscream, chieftain of the Warsong clan, am forever in your debt."

Trowa blinked at the orc in surprise, now recognizing the face beneath the soot as one of the most prominent leaders of the orcish Horde. "Rise, hand of Thrall," Trowa commanded with equal respect. "Rise, walk with me, and tell me why I found you in this hellish landscape in such a state."

Wufei complied and moved to stand beside Trowa. At full height, he only reached Trowa's nose, but what he lacked in measurement, he made up for in raw strength, for his body was far more muscular and powerful than that of any elf. Together, they walked back to the boulder behind which Trowa had initially hidden himself so that they might be discreet while they spoke and tended to one another's injuries.

"It was by my own misfortune that I fell into the hands of those pithy sons of the earth," Wufei said as he sank back to the ground, clearly still too worn out move much more. Trowa wordlessly handed him a bottled potion that might help rejuvenate his spirits while he listened to Wufei's story.

"I ventured to the Eastern Kingdoms in search of one whose disappearance concerns not only my lord, Thrall, but even the foolish friends he keeps in the Alliance," Wufei continued, gripping the bottle in both hands as he sipped at the red liquid within. "I have heard whisperings of one who might be the person I seek, but the trail grew cold as I ventured away from Horde lands. It would have been my luck that when I came to Kargath, the Dark Irons lurking in the nearby Badlands chose that very night to assault the outpost. We were outmanned and unprepared for the attack, and it was with great shame that almost all of us were lead away in chains."

"And what became of you next?" Trowa asked as he attempted to bandage his wounded arm. He hoped that with more detailing, he would hear more about Wufei's purpose, for he had a sneaking suspicion he knew exactly who the orc had been bade to find.

"You saw," Wufei answered vaguely, not at all keen to speak of the inhumane way the Dark Irons enslaved even the mightiest of prisoners. "But enough of that," he said with a wave of one hand; "Tell me of your adventures, prince. Why does the Lord of Quel'thalas wander through these unsavoury parts instead of residing upon the throne at Silvermoon?"

It was Trowa's turn to mask details, and he made a great show of tying off his bandage as he said with a shrug, "Alas, such a life is not for me. I left my sister to take care of things in my stead, for exploring this great world of ours is a far more lush fount of knowledge."

A grim look crossed Wufei's face as he summed up, "You still seek a cure for your people." Wufei's dark eyes slid away as he took a moment to brood, thinking on the plight of his own people, whose cursed bloodlust was still a fresh memory.

"My Lord Hellscream, we are _dying_," Trowa said bluntly. He lifted his hands, staring blankly at his fingers: "I'm getting older – older than I've been in three hundred years. We once oversaw the secrets of the ages, but now we hardly live long enough to even know the secrets of mere mortals."

"I fear none of us will be much longer for this world if things continue the way they are," Wufei commiserated. "This is why I must complete my quest and return to Durotar so that the Warchief and the Lady Proudmoore might find a way to keep us all alive another season."

"Lady Proudmoore!?" Trowa startled, his throwing his shoulders back and sitting abruptly upright. Of course his suspicions had been correct, but it was only then that he made the connection to Theramore. Speaking faster than he could think, Trowa leaned towards Wufei, asking, "Tell me true, my lord: if I help you find the one you seek, might you bear me back to Theramore and help me receive an audience there with a particular wizard in Lady Proudmoore's court?"

"It is done," Wufei said without even stopping to think about it. "You saved my life, and upon my father's grave, I swear my fealty to you. Ask it of me, and it is done."

For the first time in a long while, the corners of Trowa's mouth lifted into the tiniest of smiles. "Then come and allow me to bend your ear with tales of my adventures of late," he said, settling more comfortably against the huge boulder. "You might then find the scent of your hunt ripened beneath your nostrils once more."

--

Just south of the loch was the arid Badlands, where Faulkner's map marked the Uldaman excavation. Lingering amid the craggy rocks that surrounded the dig site, Heero wiped the sweat from his brow as he pondered what the best way to proceed would be. It seemed as if the entire operation had been commandeered by Dark Iron dwarves, which added an unexpected complication to Heero's ability to explore the subterranean ruins in search of the mystical chisel of which Faulkner had spoken. He didn't doubt that he could sneak by a mob or two, but Elune knew how many more were crawling around inside, or what other kinds of monsters might be lurking in the depths of those Titan ruins. He squinted his eyes in the glaring sunlight and continued to watch and wait, hoping for an opening in the ranks of Dark Irons to soon present itself. Unfortunately, at this rate, he had a feeling he might pass out from the heat before that happened. Absently, he reached for his hip pouch, where he'd stashed a few phials of water for quick replenishment.

But as his fingers dipped into the pouch, an unexpected movement within caused him to snatch his hand back in surprise. Hastily unbuttoning the pouch from his belt, he firmly ripped back the flap so that he might see inside as he rustled through the contents in search of whatever creature had managed to stow away with his rations. He wasn't sure if he was relieved or annoyed when he discovered none other than Asahi, Duo's pet roach, twirling his antennae beneath a biscuit.

The roach seemed to sense Heero's annoyance, quickly scuttling away from Heero's pinching fingers and out of the bag, scurrying across Heero's knuckles and up his arm. It took the insect a moment to realize that he couldn't seek refuge inside Heero's undecayed body the way he could with Duo's, and made a split second decision to settle for hiding beneath Heero's shoulder armour instead.

Turning his attention back towards the roaming Black Irons at the excavation site, Heero muttered, "I'm not angry with you, little one. It's not your fault your master is a liar." He wasn't sure what possessed him to address the small creature, who was tentatively poking his head out from beneath Heero's armour, but it felt good to be able to voice his inner thoughts without the fear of judgement.

Asahi bounced across Heero's shoulder, but his protests were lost on Heero, who had returned to scouting out the perfect moment to sneak into the Uldaman ruins. The Dark Irons, whose love for treasure far exceeded even the greediest Ironforge dwarf, had instilled a rather tight patrol route for the dig site, which Heero observed with reservation. "If only I could tell if they were as vigilant _inside_ as well," he grumbled. Heero may have had a good sense for impulsive action when he was in the thick of something, but how he hated rushing into a situation without being fully prepared. Frustrated, he pulled out Faulkner's map again, scrutinizing the hasty drawing as if it might help answer his question.

Asahi bounced more frantically on Heero's shoulder, but Heero continued to ignore him, even when he ran back down Heero's arm and leapt to the ground. He ran around in a circle a few times, leaving a frantic trail of tiny footprints in the sand. The kickup of dust wafted up towards Heero's nose, threatening to make Heero sneeze and give away his position. Hastily clamping his hand over his face, Heero glared down at the insect, his palm masking his displeased frown as he hissed under his breath, "Are you trying to get me _killed_?" He dropped down to his hands and knees, trying his best to make eye contact with Asahi: "Maybe I was wrong: maybe you're _exactly_ like your master, you little devil."

There was something almost smug about the way Asahi clattered his wings before bouncing a few more times and then taking off towards the dig site. Still on all fours, Heero glared after him, happy to be rid of the nuisance. A silly bug might think that it was alright to just go running in there, but it was far less likely that the brigade of Dark Irons would notice a stray cockroach than a full grown human. That, or Asahi had merely learned recklessness by example with a person like Duo as his role model. He blanched at the thought, suddenly feeling very hollow: he wished he could just erase Duo from his memory as easily as he'd erased him from his waking life, for it was really starting to impede his ability to function normally.

With a sigh, he rocked back into a sitting position, leaning his chin on the palm of his hand. He thought it would probably be best to just wait for the cover of nightfall at this rate. He didn't expect the patrols to be any more lax once the moon had come up, but he felt more comfortable slinking by them by starlight instead of beneath the garish sun. Scooting back so that he might lean against a nearby boulder, he made himself comfortable: if he was waiting for dusk, then he had a few hours to kill yet.

Somewhere along the way, his eyelids grew heavy with the tiredness that was finally catching up with him after a few days of being unable to sleep well. Unsettling replays of all the things that had led up to that particular moment flickered across the backs of Heero's eyelids, leaving him feeling rather anxious, even in his fatigue. He kept having to check the ground to make sure that it hadn't fallen out from beneath him as he tumbled through recent memories that suddenly seemed all so distant. It depressed him to think how easy it was for people to change, and, picturing Duo's face, blushed and warm as it had been in life, could hardly manage to suppress the notion that he actually missed him a little. The very thought made him almost want to resent the warlock even more.

When Heero opened his eyes again, dusk was setting in, bathing the red desert in cool purples. It took him a few moments to register where he was and what he was doing there, and it bothered him that he'd let his guard slip enough to push him into a true doze. It was only then that he noticed with a slight shock that Asahi had come back and was sitting on his knee, waiting for him to wake. He bounced excitedly when he saw the first blue slivers of Heero's irises peer down at him from beneath his heavy lashes. He leapt from Heero's knee and skittered towards the map that Heero had left lying at his side while he napped. Urgently, he nudged at it, indicating that Heero should roll it open, which Heero only did grudgingly after hazarding a guess as to what Asahi wanted of him.

As Heero was doing this, Asahi had crawled back into Heero's hip pouch and proceeded to make a fuss that Heero couldn't ignore. As soon as he'd unfurled the map, he opened his bag again to see what Asahi wanted from there, growing intrigued when he realized the insect was clinging to a small ampoule of ink. Deciding to give Asahi the benefit of doubt, he took out the ampoule and opened it for him, pouring a small splotch of it in the sand next to the map. Eagerly, Asahi raced back down to the parchment, dancing first in the ink puddle and then running his tracks across the page, smearing large marks where he'd found particularly vigilant Dark Iron dwarves inside the excavation site. Heero watched this display with his eyebrows arched in amusement, inwardly surprised that Asahi would bother to help him in such a way.

"No wonder an idiot like Duo somehow managed to survive as long as he has – what, with a friend like you," Heero muttered as he stooped over the map, absorbing Asahi's notations. He had once thought it strange that Duo called a parasitic creature like Asahi a pet, but he was beginning to think that perhaps the relationship was more symbiotic than he had initially guessed. Glancing down at the insect, Heero gave him a nod of approval and said, "I suppose you've proved your worth after all, little one."

Asahi twirled his antennae happily, taking it upon himself to run up Heero's arm and tuck himself back into the safety beneath Heero's shoulder armour. Heero picked up the map and stuffed it back into his tunic, already pulling his mask and hood over his head as he eyed the patrols. He felt a lot more confident slipping by the outside guard with the knowledge he now had about what he might expect on the inside. If only Asahi could have found a way to tell him what sorts of monsters he might come across in the darkest bowels of the ancient city, then he would have had no fear.

It was with the greatest of ease that Heero was able to steal through the darkness, creeping towards the tunnel that burrowed down towards the Titan ruins. There was an urgency to his advance that risked his discretion, but Heero was too determined to find that sacred chisel to allow himself to be anything but. But when he finally managed to plunge into the bowels of the rocky crag, he found himself assaulted with the glow of a thousand torches and lanterns, which illuminated the entire cavern and threatened Heero's cover. The moment the danger registered with him, Heero swept into the nearest shadow he could find so that he might reassess his plans. He cursed his lack of common sense: of course the darkness within such a place would have been remedied in such a way.

As a wandering Dark Iron excavator happened by Heero's hiding place, an idea came to him. His hand darting from the shadows, he grabbed the pickaxe the dwarf was carrying and, in one fell motion, swung it into the unsuspecting dwarf's skull. Then, kicking the body to a spot where it would be easily seen, Heero carefully made his way onwards, hoping that the dead body would panic the other Dark Irons enough to disband their vigilance a bit. It was a gamble, and Heero didn't like the risk of it, or how exciting Asahi seemed to think it all was, but it was better than nothing.

For once, however, luck seemed to be on Heero's side. No sooner had he ditched the excavator's body in the open did another Dark Iron find it, which set off a commotion throughout the dig site that made moving towards the ruins vastly easier for Heero. Before long, he was crouching between a small tent and the rock wall, looking up at the monolithic entrance to Uldaman. Its mason work bore high arches and great brass trimming, its stone tinted a greenish blue tint that contrasted sharply with the red rock that encased it. Heero had to bite his tongue to repress the awestruck hum he wanted to let out, amazed that something so ancient could seem so much more refined than even the modern castles of Stormwind and Theramore. With an air of reverence, he approached the entrance to Uldaman, hugging the wall as he stole into the ruins.

The commotion of the excavation site, its crackling fire and noisy dwarves, seemed to disappear into a vacuum the moment Heero set foot inside Uldaman. It was as if he had fallen back in time, or perhaps even entered another world entirely. There was an eerie calm to the place that put Heero so on edge, he almost felt unsafe taking a moment to consult Faulkner's map so that he might head in the right direction. Unfortunately, the details Faulkner had outlined for Heero were sketchy at best, based mostly on legend and rumour, which alluded to the magic chisel as a treasure that resided in the deepest vaults of Uldaman. Figuring there was no other way to go but down, Heero chose a random corridor and started along it, hoping he would eventually find a passage to take him where he wanted to be. If there was some sort of central chamber to this place, Heero figured that any direction he took would eventually turn out to be the right one. If not, then Heero only prayed that he would be able to find his way out again.

But as Heero began to wander deeper into the cavernous ruin, he couldn't shake the feeling that he wasn't alone. Sounds he couldn't discern as the echo of his own footsteps or that of another kept resonating in his ears, and though he paused often to check his surroundings, he found nothing but shadows. For a brief moment, he thought that perhaps this was a place that was best left undisturbed, but his need to destroy the Epyon sigil and its demon made that notion naught more than a passing whim.

At long last, after what seemed to be an endless descent, he reached a corridor that seemed to flatten out, twisting back and forth until it ended in a high-ceiling vestibule. Stone statues of dwarf-like creatures stood in niches around the hall, heralding a massive archway that led unto an enormous, round chamber. A mess of debris and smashed statues littered the floor of the round chamber, surrounding a fallen stone giant that lay askew beside a small altar. It was as if the carnage of a battle had been forever frozen in stone. For Heero, it reeked of magic so ancient, he had to once again fight that recurring urge to abandon his quest and leave Uldaman to forever rot beneath the sand, for even the most amateur magus could tell when the hands of mortals ought not to meddle.

"To hell with it," Heero declared to no one in particular, his voice reverberating off the walls; "The risk of abandoning this now is far greater than whatever I might disturb thither." Resolutely, he girdled himself and set forth into the round chamber, kicking through the fallen stone warriors towards the great doorway that stood on the other side. A soft glow emanated through the massive doors, which stood slightly ajar, drawing Heero closer like a beckoning spell. He wasn't sure why, but he had a feeling that the treasure which he sought would be just inside.

Sure enough, when he pushed the heavy stone door open, he found himself in the midst of the greatest treasure trove he had ever seen. Even he, who was not particularly driven by gold or gem, was overwhelmed by the great mountains of gold coin, trinkets and carved chests. Shaking himself of his momentary greed, he began his search, beginning with the large sarcophagus that stood in the middle of the antechamber, the lid of which had already been pushed open.

Inside, there was far less than he expected. Instead of an even more fabulous stash of wealth, there was only a pair of gold discs to be found, each carved with words of an ancient tongue that precluded him. Though there was nothing he could do about that, it bothered him to think that the discs might bear some kind of clue about the magic chisel, as they were probably also relics that dated back to the age of the Titans. Haplessly, he picked one of them up to examine it closer, hoping there was some kind of visual clue that might be of minimal use to him. He was unable to figure much more than that gold sparkled as if it had been recently polished, which was only noteworthy due to the fact that he'd noticed the rest of the treasure was coated with the dust of the ages. He frowned at his reflection in the gold sheen, cursing it for its lack of use before replacing it in the sarcophagus.

Meanwhile, Asahi had since wiggled out from beneath Heero's shoulder armour and down to the floor. He was running across the tops of the treasure piles, doing his best to try and help Heero find the chisel. Upon crashing headlong into a small, carven chest, the lid of which bounced open upon impact, Asahi decided to alert Heero to his discovery. Dashing between the gold mountain and Heero's foot, the roach eventually managed to get Heero to take notice of the stone chest, which he promptly went to investigate. At once, Heero's heart started to thrum when he realized that the box was decorated with a relief of hands bearing the very item he sought.

Pulling the chest down off its wealthy mount, Heero held it in one arm and pushed the lid the rest of the way open, excited to grab the chisel and leave this godforsaken place. However, his hopes were immediately crushed when he peered inside and found the chest empty. With a roar of displeasure, he flung the box to the floor. "If it can't be found here, then where in Azeroth is it?" he cried as he turned his fervor towards the vaulted ceiling above. "Am I to be forever doomed to this fate?"

Not even bothering to see if Asahi was following, Heero whirled on his heel, leaving the roach to dash madly in order to catch up with Heero's angry march. Grumbling to himself, Heero stalked back the way he had come, blindly retracing his steps back to the maze of tunnels that had wound him down to the treasure vault. Not really paying much attention to which way he was going, it wasn't long before Heero found himself wandering through corridors he had not visited on his original descent. His annoyance became momentarily displaced as that feeling of being followed slowly manifested once more.

A sound like rather insane laughter suddenly assaulted his ears, and Heero froze in his tracks, beyond certain that there was something with him. His eyes roved the tiled corridor he was currently standing in, madly seeking some clue that might help him prepare for the inevitable confrontation that was sure to come, but all there was to take note of was more of that warbled cry from somewhere not too far off.

Suddenly, from around a corner, trounced the source of the noise: a repulsive, hunched creature with a lolling tongue and lumpy, brown skin that reminded Heero of the rubble he'd seen strewn across that basement chamber. It wore a loincloth like something with vague intelligence might, and had abnormally long arms and knobby joints. Wild eyes peered out from beneath its nappy mane as it gnashed its huge, ragged teeth with delight. If anything, it reminded Heero of a very primitive and perverse looking dwarf, like one conceived in ancient nightmares.

Without any warning, it lumbered at Heero, giggling its mad shriek as it bared its clawed hands for attack. Heero barely managed to stave it off with his dagger before he took notice of an entire host of the strange creatures, which had also crept around the corner after their leader had launched itself at Heero. Fortunately, Heero found that the monsters had only a feral understanding of combat, so they were fairly easy for a trained warrior such as himself to fight off. However, their skin was as rocklike as it appeared to be, and it was with chagrin that he realized that a few gashes weren't going to keep the creatures down for very long. As more of them poured from around the corners both ahead and behind Heero, it was all Heero could do keep them down with his blade as he fought to get through the maze of corridors. He wished he had been able to fade into the shadows and blend in with his surroundings better, but it was too late for that now.

One of the creatures walloped Heero across the side of the face with one of its heavy limbs, its sharp talons gorging Heero's cheek and sending him into a bit of shock. Dizzy, Heero stumbled back, barely able to recover from the attack as the monsters continued to throw themselves at him. It was only by mere chance that the erratic way Heero was swinging his dagger about managed to impale one of the monsters directly in the eye. It let out a wild cry and leapt back as a dark ooze started to gush between the spindly fingers that it had clapped over the injury. All at once, the chaos seemed to pause as all the monsters turned to look at their mortally wounded comrade, who had collapsed to the ground and was now writhing in pain. An unsettling chill ran down Heero's back as he watched, all the while backing away from the mob as surreptitiously as he could.

Then, just as unexpectedly as the attack on Heero had come, the monsters all suddenly leapt on the dying one, taking to it with a cannibalistic frenzy that filled the air with the squish of ripping flesh and a crunching of bone that reminded Heero of crumbling stone. Taking advantage of the new distraction, Heero fled without even stopping to wonder if they had torn into the wounded creature before it had stopped breathing. His feet carried him faster than he had ever run in his life, desperate to get out of that hellish place and never again speak of the horrors he'd unearthed there.

Unfortunately for Heero, his luck was only a transient tease. No sooner had he thought himself free of the rock creatures and free of Uldaman and its terrors did he find himself in the hands of another terrible happenstance. He had no sooner reached the mighty portal that marked the entrance to the ruins when he realized that all the hubbub he had earlier escaped from at the dig site was strangely missing. Lost in a momentary lapse of reason, he stood dumbly at the head of the great steps that led up to the ruin, pondering what might have silenced the excavation while he was traipsing through Uldaman. It was in this manner that he was left wide open for the troupe of Dark Iron sentries that had been lying in wait just outside to pounce upon him and wrestle him into submission before clapping him in chains and dragging him off as their prisoner to depths unknown for murdering their comrade.

--

TBC

=D


	18. The Cauldron Pit

**Title: **_**The Forsaken**_

**Author: **Link Worshiper

**Pairings:** 1=2, maybe some others if I feel like it

**Rating: **PG-13

**Stuff:** Fantasy AU, fluff, sap, language, adventure, WoW nerdiness

**Disclaimer:** I own Gundam Wing action figures? Warcraft and its lore belongs to Blizzard Entertainment. Both things are being played with out of fangirl love.

Thanks to danse and Natea for the once over. Despite the fact this is part of Natea's birthday present, I still needed her to fill me in on the Alliance history they don't teach us on Horde, so thanks for that also =P

Sorry this took me forever to write! Stupid holidays. But at least this chapter's length should make up for it! I hope, anyway!

-

_Part XVIII_

_The Cauldron Pit_

-

The Dark Irons took Heero so deep into the earth, it wasn't long before he had lost all sense of where he might be. Through his silent observations, he could tell only that the colour of the rock was slowly shifting from red to a more deadened tone, and that it grew more swelteringly hot with every step they took, but it wasn't much to go on. The tunnels through which they walked were cut through the very heart of the earth, where not even a single mote of sunlight could waft, and the only sound to be heard was the drip-dripping of water as it sweat from the stalactites overhead. If Heero could be sure of one thing, it was that these passageways had probably been there since the dawn of time and were home to yet more eldritch secrets than the ones he had unearthed in Uldaman.

What he found at the end of the march, which seemed to have dragged on for at least a league or two, was far from what he'd expected, though perhaps not altogether surprising. They now stood in a cavernous pit that boiled with the heat of the magma that dribbled down the walls and diverted through a series of irrigated troughs. Dozens of slaves of every imaginable race in Azeroth lined the rivers of lava, smelting an endless supply of thorium ore into tempered metal under the watchful eyes of more Dark Irons. The clang of hammers upon anvils and pumping bellows filled the stifling air as Heero looked on in horror, unable to believe that the Dark Irons were overseeing such a heinous operation in relative secret.

"I hope ye got a good eyeful," piped up one of his captors as they dragged Heero through the slave-driven forge, "fer tha's where ye'll find yerself come th' next sunup." The guffaw that followed was horrible because of the mirth with which it rang.

They brought Heero to a large cell that was hewn into the rock not far from the forge, pushing him in and locking the crude grate that served as a door behind him. The anvils still reverberated in Heero's ears and the red glow of the lava stained his vision and burnt his skin, assuring him that sleep would never be a lengthy visitor. It was all he could do to crawl as far back into the cell as he could and hope to recuperate before the Dark Irons returned to seal him in bondage. Clinking in his chains as he moved, he barely managed to find a suitable expanse of rock to lean against as he lamented what a fix he'd managed to land himself in this time. It would take no less than a miracle from Elune to save him now.

Closing his eyes, he wondered what he had done to deserve such a fate – besides the obvious, of course. He conjectured whether or not it would be in his best interest to just allow the order of the universe to take its course without any input from him, hoping that it might at least do to set right whatever his actions had thrown out of balance. It concerned him that his gut instincts might not always be the best course of action. Squinting his eyes shut, he tried to rest for the time being, but it was still difficult, even when he managed to tune out the clamour of the forge.

Momentarily, a sharp whisper in the darkness cut into his restless sleep: "Who be you, mon?" came a female voice that was soaked heavily in a trollish island accent.

Startling, Heero's eyes snapped open and he roved the shadowy cell in search of the speaker, which didn't take long: nearby, bound just as he was in chained cuffs, was a troll woman with nappy, white hair, glowering at him suspiciously. She was small for her race, but still at least two feet taller than Heero, clad in the vestments of some kind of healer, though it was hard to tell for certain since her robes were marred and torn after being held prisoner.

"What's it to you?" Heero snapped, not about to make conversation with a troll when he had more pressing things to worry about. It was only then that he noticed from the corner of his eye that Asahi was scurrying back into his hip pouch, leaving Heero to sigh in frustration: of course that meddlesome pet of Duo's would go upsetting the likes of trolls at a time like this.

"If you're going to be on our shift, we have a right to know. We're not going to go another day without food because the newbie screwed up," hissed another female voice, this one a bit more sturdy and raspy than that of the troll. Heero glanced nary a few feet over to discover an orc woman in wearing a jerkin and leggings made of dirty animal skins. Her hair was long and braided, which, upon noticing, Heero couldn't help but associate with Duo: he mentally berated himself for the thought, though.

"I haven't the slightest idea what you could mean," Heero answered tersely, though to the best of his knowledge, it was the truth. He'd gathered that he would eventually be put to work in that hellish forge, certainly, but the implication that he would do something to jeopardize those upon whom he relied was completely absurd. His glare cut through the reddened darkness, daring either one of them to contest his worth. Reaching down to pick up Asahi, he then said, "I could do with an explanation as to what place this is, though."

"The seat o' da Dark Iron war machine," said the troll.

"A slave pit," said the orc.

"I gathered that much. But _where_?" Heero returned with equal animosity. It was hard to tell if the tension between them had more to do with the situation or the preexisting lines that had been drawn between them the moment they caught sight of the shapes of one another's bodies and the colours of their skins.

Both the orc and the troll could only shrug, and for a moment, Heero thought they were just trying to be difficult, until the orc elaborated. "They call it the Cauldron," she said, her voice still addled with hate. "Only the ancestors know how many of their prisoners have died to fuel its foul purpose – or what that purpose might even be."

"So basically what you're telling me is that they expect us to only bide time until the inevitable," Heero summed up with a frown. He probably should have figured as much, but now he knew for sure that breaking out was the only option if he meant to get away from this place. He then pressed his cellmates if either knew a way to escape or if anyone had ever managed the task.

Again, both the orc and the troll could only shrug, though after exchanging a wary glance, the troll then added in a low whisper, "Yah mon, many 'ave tried, but no one 'as eva' done it. 'Oweva', de closest anybody eva' got ta doin' it was just a bit ago. Neva' seen more determination in anybody, mon."

"It certainly killed morale to see him fail," the orc groused a bit morosely, glaring off to the side as she idly picked at her teeth with a sharp nail. "But if we learned anything, it's that planning is key if we're to ever leave this place."

"An' maybe some helpin' from de outside, yah?" added the troll.

Heero stopped talking them abruptly, now armed with enough information to mull over what he ought to do next more astutely. He thought that for now, it would be best to play into the hands of the Dark Irons and do exactly what they expected of him. With any luck, he would manage to find out more about this botched escape plan and how to make sure that his own was incapable of failing.

"I see that look in your eye," the orc spoke up, interrupting Heero's thoughts. She was still acting nonchalant, though her eyes had rolled over in Heero's direction as she whet her nail against one of her tusks. "It's the same look _he_ had when he first came here – the same one he had until the Dark Irons crushed his rebelliousness." She dropped her hand and curled her mouth into a rather unimpressed shape: "Who are you, anyway?"

Heero couldn't say he cared for the orc's attitude. She might have had some kind of predisposition about him because of his race, but she didn't know anything about what kind of person he was, nor the kind of power the Epyon sigil benefited him with. For the first time, he was actually grateful for the curse, and a rather devilish smirk rose to his face as he thought of the devastation that he might bring when his chance to escape finally came. "My name is Heero Yuy," he said with an air of confidence he couldn't quite mask. "You would do to remember it."

The orc female only sneered at Heero though: his name was only that to her, and meant nothing. "Good, good," she jibed, curling her lips into a sneer that cast hideous shadows across her green face. "Now I'll know what to say when we are left to acknowledge the passing of your spirit over your corpse."

The way the troll and the orc then proceeded to laugh literally made Heero's blood curdle.

-

Heero only considered his first shift in the forge the next day because he'd managed to squeeze an hour or two of plagued sleep between then and the conversation he'd had with the troll and the orc. Their demeanor had left him even more paranoid than he'd been before, and even when genuine fatigue rose to meet him, he knew he'd only feel safe if he could sleep with one eye open.

When he was roused, it was at the cruel tip of a Dark Iron dagger, which forced him to his feet and out of the cave prison. They marched him with the rest of the prisoners and set them to work. Because Heero was fresher to the pit and more fit than most, he was thrown onto the massive bellows, which required two teams of eight to pump nonstop with their feet. At first it wasn't so bad, but never being allowed a break or even a sip of water in the volcanic heat was quick to take its toll on Heero's physique.

It was like that for three days, all through which Heero kept his eyes carefully peeled for any weaknesses in the Dark Iron sentry that kept them to their task, and his ears sharp for any whispers that might help him devise a way to escape. He still heard about the prisoner who had tried to make his escape before his arrival, and it impressed him that despite the botched attempt, he had managed to become some kind of hero amongst all the slaves of the Cauldron, both Alliance and Horde alike. It seemed as though he had tried to use some kind of spell to cast the abundant lava that flowed through the pit against the Dark Irons, but hadn't calculated that his enemies would have been proficient sorcerers themselves. There was a damaged section of the forge that was left unused, apparently the destruction that had been left in the wake of the prisoner's rebellion. Heero found himself secretly lauding such chaos, for once wishing he was adept enough with magic to continue the work the would-be escapist had started. At the same time, he found himself thinking that perhaps another approach would be more successful, though he had yet to decide if all out force or discretion would win the day in the end. He needed more time to assess and plan; the question was just whether or not his body could take the duress.

After a few more days, Heero came to expect certain things to a point where they had almost become routine, and it was only then that he felt comfortable with formulating a substantial jail break. In particular, he had noticed the way his cellmates, the orc and the troll, seemed to have a penchant for attracting the attention of the Dark Iron sentries with their own breed of mutiny almost regularly, and the ruckus they created was to point where Heero was confident that the patrols became lax enough for him to slip through to freedom. For once, he felt proud to have been trained so well in the art of thieving and sneaking about, knowing that those skills were going to be his saving grace this time. Now it was just a matter of waiting for the right moment.

His opportunity came not long after. The orc and the troll had, once again, managed to sabotage a few of the weapons at the anvil they had been chained to, and, just like clockwork, were taking their punishment for it. The Dark Iron task masters seemed to revel in the regularity of their impudence, for it meant that they could take turns beating the prisoners like it was a daily exercise, and it was that spectacle that Heero sought to take advantage of. The second he heard that first whip crack, he bolted from his position on the bellows ropes, leaving the rest of his teammates to pump them without his help. Effortlessly, he melded into the harsh shadows cast by the rocks standing in the magma's glow and crept along the wall towards the scaffolding that rose towards the crumbling lip of the pit.

His original plan had been to avoid killing anyone if he could, since that would only risk his escape, but when he reached the foot of the wooden structure and found a pair of guards standing in his way, he knew that there was nothing else for him to do. Weaponless, he crept up behind the first Dark Iron and flung his arms around his neck, crushing his arms around the dwarf's throat until he breathed no more. Then Heero quickly disarmed the corpse and launched himself at the other sentry before he even had a chance to react. After unsheathing the stolen dirk from the slain dwarf's neck, Heero wiped the brackish blood off on his sleeve and quickly started his ascent of the scaffolding, wooden planks creaking beneath his feet as he made due haste.

Unfortunately for Heero, his luck was almost up. What he had forgotten to calculate was the patterns of the Dark Iron patrols at the top of the pit, and just as he was taking his first breath of smokeless air, he found himself hopelessly surrounded by a whole platoon of Dark Irons. "Clever of ye, worryin' only aboot ye'self instead o' trying to make a real mess," said the captain of the brigade that stood around Heero in a tight circle. "Get 'im back in chains and lock 'im up where he won't make any more trouble fer a while," the Dark Iron captain then commanded sharply, and Heero could only wonder what was wrong with him that his best reaction was to smirk defiantly as the other dwarfs closed in on him.

-

They brought Heero back down into the Cauldron, but instead of throwing him into the prison cave that he had been kept in before, Heero was led further into the earth's bowels, where he was shoved into an even smaller and more remote cell that was hewn into the cliffs. Here, the firelight from the forge barely penetrated the blackness, and it took almost fifteen minutes for Heero's eyes to adjust to it. Unlike the other prison cell, it seemed like this one was intended to be some kind of solitary confinement, which didn't bode well for Heero. Growling under his breath, he let the defiance pounding in his chest strike out, glad he was at least marked for an honourable death that he could take pride in.

"Who's there?"

It was then that he realized that he was not the only one who'd been left to rot there. He peered into the shadows, where, just barely illuminated by the red glow of the forge, he thought he could make out a hunched figure crumpled against the craggy wall. Intrigued by the potential of an ally in this most dismal of places, he crawled in that direction to investigate if only to satisfy his curiosity. But upon discovering what manner of wretch lay chained to the back of the cell, Heero rocked back on his haunches, unsure how to describe how he felt about what he saw.

The withered figure chained to the wall by the ankle was none other than Duo, and Heero cursed Elune for her ill sense of humour. And yet, Heero couldn't help but notice how Duo looked even more decrepit and wan than he remembered him being. His cheeks were so sallow, it looked as if the skin had melted from his skull and left only bone, and his braid seemed to have been singed a good foot shorter than Heero remembered it being. The purple robe Heero had grown so used to seeing draped over Duo's skeletal body was gone, leaving him in only the torn britches and shirt he wore underneath. He supposed forced labour was bound to take a toll on even someone who had been dead as long as Duo had, but he couldn't shake the queasiness that overwhelmed him at the thought of it managing to snuff out Duo's buoyant personality. The poor creature before him didn't seem to be aware of his presence, or at the very least, unable to move enough to acknowledge him. Heero found himself in a conundrum, wondering if he ought to say something: every time he opened his mouth, though, he was left wordless, unable to find the right things to say. It was only then that he realized that such things were probably never in his repertoire to begin with, and the notion was more disconcerting than he'd anticipated. He wondered how long ago Duo had been captured.

Heero was saved the agony of having to figure out what he ought to do by the throaty sound of Duo's voice, which was unmistakable despite how squashed and worn as it was from days of disuse. "Help me," he sputtered without even turning his head to look at Heero. "Whoever you are, you have to help me."

Under normal circumstances, Heero might have been pleased to be nothing more than a ghost to everyone around him, but upon hearing Duo speak in such a way, he was unable to suppress the knot of malcontent that had become lodged in the depth of his stomach. Despite the gravity of their situation and the fact that he was practically on Death's doorstep, Heero couldn't ignore the distrust he still felt towards the warlock. Steeling himself, Heero let his frustration boil a little bit as he said edgily, "And why should I? I am not a cast away tool for your convenience, _Duo_."

The proximity of Heero's voice seemed to stir something in Duo, who shifted the slightest bit so that he might check that his ears weren't deceiving him. The nearly extinguished glow in his eye sockets flared up briefly when he caught sight of Heero, though it was impossible to tell exactly what emotion had flared up within the beaten warlock. With what might have even been called sarcasm, Duo rasped, "Then why have you come here?" He struggled to sit up and face Heero, though in his weakened state, even that was difficult. A strained smile warped his already decrepit features as he murmured, "After everything I've survived, it would be fitting that it would be you who would finally put an end to me…."

Even in the boiling heat, Heero felt a shiver roll down his spine at Duo's eerie resignation and could only wonder at it. He narrowed his eyes at the warlock's dark shape, wanting to resent him and bewildered that he found it hard to. "I'm not here to…" he trailed off, choking on the sound of his own voice. "That is, I…." He cleared his throat, now more annoyed with himself than anything. Clenching his hands into fists of frustration, he finally managed to grind out, "The question is, rather, what _you_ are doing here!"

"Withering;" A vague and crooked smile appeared on Duo's face as he spoke: "Withering away for you."

"You really are a fool," Heero hissed, his eyes flashing like cinders. "You should know well that we have nothing to do with each other."

The sound of Duo's rusting bonds clinked as he shifted, struggling to sit up despite himself. "Sometimes, I wonder if it's not the reverse that is true," he rasped, futilely trying to rub away the soot that caked his face. "Sometimes… I wonder if you don't see me at all. No matter how I reach for you, it's like grasping at a ghost." His fleshy hand was extended feebly out towards Heero as he spoke, but Heero only recoiled from it. "You know you're all I ever wanted…."

Heero wanted to tell him that it was too late for sentiments like that, and yet, all he could think about was how alone he'd felt since Duo had left. He'd always tried to think of his time in Dalaran as some kind of transient fantasy, and yet, every day he'd tried to face since then were the ones that hardly seemed real. If these weren't things he had been carrying within his misplaced soul since then, he might have wondered what kind of lunacy the warlock's magic had cast over him since their journey had begun. Duo had left him unraveled, and truth be told, he wasn't sure he even knew how to sew himself back together. If anything, all he had to offer Duo anymore was sorrow. Emotionally cornered, the only thing Heero could think to say was, "It's better if I walk away."

The dim glow of Duo's soul nearly extinguished itself as Heero spoke those words. He slumped even lower against the cavern wall, his weariness finally showing through. "You know, even in death, I was always sure I'd see you again," he murmured, his hand dropping limply to his side. "I would rather just lay down my life for you than try to make it through another day if that's really…." For the first time since Heero had known Duo, he heard him stutter. Then Duo mumbled almost inaudibly, "…if that's really how it must end."

The finality of Duo's defeat clawed at Heero's chest as if he had been just as wounded. "You say it as though you haven't been able to manage without me before," he frowned, eyeing the space between where they both sat as if the span was miles longer than the few feet that actually separated them. "I don't see why tomorrow has to be any different from the day before I stumbled into your molding graveyard."

"A lie!" Duo flared, his eyes glowering momentarily brighter as his passion singed his words. For a moment, Heero thought he might have actually garnered enough strength to rip his shackles clean from the wall. "Tomorrow, there is no chance that I might live to kiss you again, and I will be dead whether my soul is here or upon the winds – whether I draw breath or not!" He curled his knees against his chest and bent his elbows over his knees so that he might hide his head behind his forearms. "Until now, I had a reason to risk everything – for the chance that I'd be able to go home to you. Take it away, and there is no more reason for me to walk the earth a moment longer." His fingers knotted themselves into his mossy hair, and he quaked like he might have been crying if tears were able to well in his eyes.

"And that is why I've found you locked away in such a place as this?" Heero asked, hastily drawing their conversation back full circle. He still hadn't heard what Duo was doing there, but he was starting to gather a few ideas. Truth be told, hearing Duo confess such things to him frightened Heero a little bit, afraid that it would take but one word from Duo to reawaken the emotions he had to fight so hard to bury. Even as it was, his heart trembled at the very sound of Duo's voice, even as blighted as it was in its decay.

"Verily," came Duo's muffled reply. He lifted his head slightly, daring to take a peek at Heero's face, though he didn't expect to see any sort of empathy there. "I came looking for a relic in Uldaman I heard might help break your curse," he said as he started to unlace the collar of his shirt. Pulling it open and exposing a spot in his torso where the flesh had rotted away to expose two of his ribs, he plunged his fingers into the cavity and started fishing around inside. "I managed to find it before those bastards ambushed me on my way out," he said, yanking his hand out with a slight wince and tossing Heero the very chisel he had been searching for. It was stained with a thin coat of dried blood, but the faint glow the item carried made its magical properties unmistakable. "Take it. Elune has obviously guided you here so that you might, as I was clearly not even fit enough to bring it to you myself," Duo went on, gesturing idly to it with a hand that was similarly blotted with the bloodstains he'd garnered on it after plunging it into his corpse. "I couldn't even get out of here on my own. I know it's my own damn fault." He groaned and buried his face back into his lap, careless of the blood on his one hand as he weaved it back into his matted hair.

There wasn't a breath to be heard in that tiny cavern, for Duo had stopped breathing long ago and Heero had forgotten how. The human stared down at the chisel that lay so innocuously in the soot before him and found himself profoundly moved, not by its presence, but the fact that it was Duo's own blood smeared across its surface. With shaking fingers, he reached for it and held it up only to stare at it with the same bewildered face before glancing back at Duo, who seemed to have completely wilted in his place. Had Duo really gone to such lengths to prove himself to Heero once more? Thinking about the destruction he'd seen in the Cauldron that Heero now knew could be none other than Duo's handiwork when he'd tried to escape, Heero wasn't quite sure what he ought to think about it anymore. All he knew for certain was that no matter how he searched, he would never find someone who would love him the way Duo had. One look at Duo's fading eyes was more than enough to tell that was true.

In that moment, Heero made a decision. Lurching towards Duo, brandishing the sacred chisel, Heero tested its strength on the chain that kept Duo bound to the wall. With a bright flash of light, the chisel's flat tip sliced into the rusted links, shattering them with nary more than a few strikes. Then, reaching for Duo, who was still curled into himself, Heero shook him and wordlessly held the chisel out to him, silently entreating him to take it back, though the warlock hardly seemed to care about anything that was going on around him anymore. "You should take this again. Until I have fulfilled my end of the bargain and stolen you that elixir, you must," Heero said at length, rapping Duo's cold cheek. Growing slightly concerned, he gripped Duo's upper arm and used his other hand to turn Duo's face towards his. "Please, Duo," he murmured, unnerved by the hollow shadows in Duo's eye sockets; "Let me restore your faith in me."

But Duo was limp in his hands, almost as if the life was slowly ebbing out of his corpse. His head lolled against Heero's arm, connecting with an open wound that sent a burning pain shooting through Heero's body, though Heero hardly noticed until he felt Duo stir against it, like he was actually brushing against the gash on purpose. Another sting impaled his arm, and Heero snapped his attention back at Duo, appalled to find the warlock was actually lapping at the blood and nibbling at the raw flesh. At first, Heero wanted to snatch his arm away in mortification, but then he noticed that Duo actually seemed to be recovering a bit of his former vigour the more he feasted upon Heero's wound. Once he realized that this cannibalistic ritual was actually rejuvenating Duo's strength, Heero was able to stomach the searing pain, even offering himself more freely as Duo grabbed him by the wrist and thrust his tongue into the gash: Heero swallowed his scream.

At last, his eyes alight with the glow of his soul once more, Duo sat up and met Heero's carefully schooled expression with one of immense gratitude. His face was stained with a salve of soot and Heero's blood, making his decrepit face even more terrible than it usually was, but Heero had never been so relieved to see any other. A part of him still stung at the memory of their particular history together, but in that moment, it hardly mattered. Resolutely, he squared his shoulders and surreptitiously tried to clot his bleeding arm on the fabric of his tunic as he announced flatly, "I refuse to tarry here a moment longer."

"And I," Duo replied. Acting more like himself (which was a great relief to Heero), Duo grinned cockily; "Let us fly from here on an angry wind!"

Heero watched as Duo shakily stood, still slightly concerned by the fact that Duo was unused to walking after being chained in place for so long. Not to mention the fact that Duo had been stripped of all his gear, his staff and wand in particular, and it made Heero wonder if he would still be able to summon any of his devilish minions to aid their escape. But when he tried to think of a good strategy to get them out of there safely with all those considerations, he found himself disliking the rather hackneyed solution he continued to return to no matter how hard he pondered it. He decided to speak up about it anyway, figuring that even a rushed, messy plan was better than no plan at all: "If I use the power of the Epyon demon to escape from here, do you think you could follow in the wake of its terror and get away as well?"

Duo's reaction was immediately dubious, his grin dropping into a frown. "You can't let yourself actually _rely_ on that thing, Heero. That's how it manages to devour your soul," he said with a warning lilt to his tone. He looked down at his hands and flexed them, muttering, "It's not like I can't still cast magic. There has to be another way…."

"There's not," Heero said with a slight air of confidence, although he was internally not very pleased with the fact either. "You tried when you were well-prepared and _still_ were subdued. Surely they will kill you if they capture you again."

Duo wasn't sure if he felt more belittled or disappointed by Heero, but he had to acquiesce there wasn't much else to be done. His only consolation was found when something weighty dropped onto his upturned palm and he looked to find Heero's hand pressing the sacred chisel into his. Duo wasn't sure how he could tell what Heero was trying to convey, but he somehow was able to understand the words Heero wasn't saying. His pale fingers closed around Heero's wrist and held it fast as he caught Heero's wayward eyes: "Don't you dare throw your life away, Heero Yuy," he told him with a serious edge. "If you do, I will raise up your corpse so that I might murder you for it."

Somehow, Heero didn't doubt Duo's word on that.

-

**TBC!!**


	19. Careless Talk

**Title: **_**The Forsaken**_

**Author: **Link Worshiper

**Pairings:** 1=2, maybe some others if I feel like it

**Rating: **PG-13

**Stuff:** Fantasy AU, fluff, sap, language, adventure, WoW nerdiness

**Disclaimer:** I own Gundam Wing action figures? Warcraft and its lore belongs to Blizzard Entertainment. Both things are being played with out of fangirl love.

Thanks to danse and Natea for the once over. Despite the fact this is part of Natea's birthday present, I still needed her to fill me in on the Alliance history they don't teach us on Horde, so thanks for that also =P

**NOTE:** SOOOOOOOO sorry this took me forever to write and post, but lately, my life has been a horrible, busy mess. I can't believe I'm actually finished with something new! I hope you enjoy it :)

--

_Part XVIX_

_Careless Talk_

_--  
_

Both Relena and Thrall had stressed the importance of finding that sigil and the human rogue that most likely had it on his person. There had been no mistaking the concern that the lady had in particular about the whole situation, though Wufei kind of resented the fact that she seemed a bit more concerned about the missing rogue than the misplaced artifact. Still, if Thrall had thought it was enough of a threat to not only confide in humans about the matter, but also to send his most trusted overlord out on a personal mission to find it, then it was fairly safe to assume that the matter was serious. He only wondered how this blood elf fit into the whole scheme of things and how he knew Heero Yuy. It bothered Wufei more to think that an ally of the Horde might have been commiserating with a member of the Alliance, and he only prayed that the explanation behind their connection was of a far more hostile nature. He would hate to brand the prince of Silvermoon a traitor: it might stir up more harm than good.

But even if Wufei had any doubts that Trowa knew where to find the human rogue, he was too bound by honour to question the elf's integrity. It was absolutely shameful that he had been incarcerated in such a way, and a part of him still might have preferred death to the _embarrassment_ of being rescued. Still, it wasn't his place to question his fate if the ancestors had willed it this way, so he thought no more about the matter. And yet, part of him still wondered if the elf actually knew where he was going after all, since they were still wandering through the ashen mountains and had yet to really encounter new terrain. If it weren't for his damned honour, his pride might have taken the opportunity to vocalize the question of whether or not they were lost.

The instincts of the hardened orc warrior weren't entirely wrong, for Trowa had been wandering somewhat aimlessly to bide some time. He needed to think about where Heero and Duo might have gone after he'd left them, and then how to realign himself with them. With one hand buried deep into his hip pouch so that he might worry the owl charm, he trudged onwards, hoping he might soon be struck with some kind of epiphany. He'd seen nothing to settle it yet.

At length, Wufei found he could not keep himself silent much longer, his brash personality starting to boil away his patience. "Prince, what is it that you know of the rogue, Heero Yuy?" he asked, his formalities the only barrier between his flaring temper and keeping his honour intact.

The question caught Trowa somewhat off-guard, and he stumbled to a halt, his free hand reaching for Heavypaw so that he might take comfort in petting his thick mane. He wasn't sure that he should reveal every detail of what had happened thus far to Wufei, for then it was only a whisper away from Warchief Thrall – a fact that did not sit well with the blood elf at all. Quickly coming up with a vague summation of events, Trowa spoke casually over one shoulder: "Kidnapping," he explained briefly.

"Kidnapping?" Wufei repeated, sounding a bit dubious. His harsh features knit ponderously as he mulled over it, quickly deciding that it wasn't enough to be a satisfactory response. "You kidnapped an Ally and then let him go? Did you even _realize_ what dangerous magic he had in his possession when you did this?" It was all Wufei could do to keep himself from leaping at Trowa in anger, unable to believe he was even asking such a question.

"Well, I didn't have anything to do with it. I just happened to _be there_," Trowa snapped, definitely offended by Wufei's accusatory manner. He turned around to face the orc overlord, a deep frown creasing his lips.

Wufei didn't know what Trowa meant by that, but he was pretty sure he didn't like the sound of it. "It is only honour and respect for your station that keeps me from slitting your throat," Wufei growled, grasping for the axe he had stolen off of one of the Dark Iron corpses. "What you have done betrays the Horde!"

At this, Trowa actually chuckled a little, his frown transforming into an ironic smirk. "It betrays the Horde to leave an Ally prisoner in the hands of a Forsaken warlock?" he wondered with a quirked eyebrow. "If you are to question anyone's motives, then, by the Sunwell, it is _his_." Though the smirk remained on his face, Trowa's hand tightened around a clump of Heavypaw's mane as he remembered Duo and his flippancy towards him for the sake of that infernal human.

"I can't imagine what you mean," Wufei deadpanned, still tensed like he meant to attack Trowa at any moment. Once again, his pride warred with his honour as he tried to decide whether or not he should call attention to the obvious gaps in Trowa's story. Surely the ancestors were testing him with this predicament.

Still seething at the reminder of Duo, Trowa couldn't help but vent a little bit of his annoyance towards his former friend. "It was the warlock who wanted to keep him alive, and it was the warlock who struck such a taboo bargain with the human in the first place," Trowa said, frustrated that the memory still remained so fresh and bitter. "He knew what the human had from the moment they first met – even knew _who_ the human was! – and then swore to free him from his curse in exchange for some treasure from the vaults of…." He trailed off, slowly drawing in a breath as he saw a revelation. "Stormwind," he uttered as if it were the solution to all that had gone wrong so far. "They will make haste to _Stormwind_!"

All of Wufei's anger drained almost immediately as he blinked at Trowa. "Stormwind?" he iterated incredulously.

"_Stormwind?_" spoke a third voice that caused both Wufei and Trowa to startle. The elf and the orc glanced wildly about in search of the new speaker: when Wufei caught sight of him, he slapped his battleaxe into his hands, while Trowa simply let out a sigh of relief when he found it was only the ghostly image of Quatre. Holding the owl charm was such a comforting thing, he'd almost forgotten he had been doing so.

"What new sorcery is _this_? Who are you?" Wufei demanded to know, slowly approaching the translucent image of Quatre that hung in the air before him. The bluish glow of the communication portal contrasted starkly with the smoldering landscape around them, cutting moonlit shapes into the harsh ember light that illuminated their faces.

Quatre chuckled, clearly amused. "It's good to see you again, Lord Hellscream. Do you not remember speaking with me at Theramore with Lady Relena?" Quatre said, unable to mask his reaction to Wufei's confusion. He glanced briefly at Trowa, like he meant to detail something of their relationship, but tooled back the urge by saying instead, "I appear before you because it seemed you had some need for me. I wonder if it is anything more than announcing your theories of Heero and Stormwind?"

Wufei's face contorted at the mention of Heero's name, verily displeased that everyone seemed to know more about what was going on that he did – not to mention that he also seemed to be the last one to know about it. He managed to reign in his temper, benefiting both Trowa and Quatre each with their own, individualized glowers of malice. He was too annoyed to speak his mind, so he did not, and instead stood back, leaning on his axe as he waited for one of them to expound on the scenario further.

Trowa, for his part, was not about to admit to Quatre that he had been taking solace in the handling of the enchanted trinket that linked them together. It would have been painfully embarrassing to tell the priest that he felt twice as wise when he touched it, especially within earshot of Wufei. Hastily, he instead tried to come up with a believable reason to excuse his accidental summoning of the telecommunication portal, thanking the gods above that he had a sharp wit honed for just such an occasion. His face a blank stare of indifference, he said, "I need you to tell me of how best to approach the city so that we might impede Duo and his human pet before they breach the castle vault."

Quatre arched his eyebrows, though a thin line of mirth still traced his lips. "Dare I ask what will happen if they are allowed to do this?"

The question caught Trowa completely off guard, who immediately recognized that the answer was complicated and somewhat loaded. Honestly, he really didn't care if Duo wanted to be alive, dead or out of body, so whether or not Heero managed to steal that elixir didn't make much of a difference to him. Come to it, he wasn't even really sure he cared if Heero was completely consumed by that demon, despite how horrible Duo kept insisting such a thing would be. It was right then, in a moment of clarity, that Trowa came to the terrifying realization that the main thing that was driving him to accomplish this quest was the prospect of meeting Quatre face-to-face. He made a point to frown as these thoughts ran through his head, somehow paranoid that Wufei would be able to pick up on such traitorous inclinations.

He didn't want to think about it.

Instead, he directed a pointed stare at Wufei, who was shifting from one foot to the other with riled annoyance at the ignorance of what _he_ thought was a fairly obvious consequence. Unable to quell himself, the orc interrupted the conversation by gruffly inserting, "There is no chance that they will be able to just _wander into Stormwind_ without that infernal King Milliardo knowing of it. And his lust for the sigil is the _entire reason_ half of Azeroth is out hunting for that reckless, sneak-thieving rogue!" He crossed his arms and glowered at a nearby boulder, hoping to incinerate it with his eyes.

"Fair enough," said Quatre, his demeanor a bit graver now. He returned his attention to Trowa, who he found was still watching him through the portal, and continued, "Well, it seems from your surroundings that you are not far. If you have the gumption, you might find some old mineshafts the Ironforge dwarves abandoned when the Dark Irons consumed the Redrock Mountains. They will take you to Elwynn faster than navigating the pass – albeit, certainly far more treacherous."

Wufei snorted at the warning, though he still pretended to be ignoring the words of the priest. Orcs were made to die: if anything, the promise of danger gave this entire escapade more purpose. As it stood, he felt like he had been sent out to look for a petulant child that had run astray.

"Is that so?" Trowa was musing aloud to Quatre, completely incognizant of Wufei's sour mood. He curled a finger around his chin and thought about the suggestion, unable to resist his natural suspicion: "And how can I trust that you are not leading my companion and I to certain doom?" he asked, narrowing his eyes into what he hoped was an intimidating expression.

Clearly, there was something about Trowa's attitude that amused Quatre immensely, for he chuckled again at Trowa's question. Settling down a little, he gave Trowa his assurance: "Fear not, fair prince," he said with a rather ambiguous smile; "That you carry my owl trinket with you should be proof enough to any lingering magics that you mean the Alliance no harm."

Trowa's hand tightened around the owl charm even as he mentally tried to spite such a notion. Even though the Alliance and its confounded king had left Trowa and his people to rot, he couldn't help but place some kind of inexplicable faith in Quatre and his guarantee that things would work out for the best. He opened his mouth to say something about it – to expound on something that had been nagging him for quite some time as of late -- but he never got the chance.

Just then, along the horizon line, a sudden explosion of magical energy surged into the sky so powerfully that it painted the brackish clouds a hideous shade of green and momentarily blasted away the fiery tint that coloured Trowa and Wufei even so far away. Quatre's voice was staggered as he tried to find out what was happening in the burning wasteland as his communication portal began to flicker and fade with the magical disruption, but Trowa and Wufei could only stare into the distance, transfixed by the brilliant lightshow that the magic continued to splay across the heavens.

Moving to stand next to Trowa, Wufei commented gruffly, "Time is running out."

Trowa could only nod dumbly.

--

Meanwhile, at the source of the spell's origin, deep at the bottom of the Dark Iron slave pit, there was nothing but blind chaos as Heero charged through the throngs of dwarves, cutting through their ranks as if they were mere rag dolls. The first swell of power had come when Heero had taken out the Epyon Sigil and channeled its dark energies, fusing once more with the demon that dwelled within. His bond with the black energy had intensified with each summoning, corrupting his soul and twisting his body more violently than ever: his body had become bulkier, and a pair of devilish horns curled from his forehead, his flesh an ashen hue. Two leathery and torn wings extended from his back, between which Duo clung as Heero fought his way towards the scaffolding that marked their escape. Despite the darkness that coursed through his veins, Heero displayed an unyielding protectiveness towards Duo, almost more driven to attack the Dark Irons because they were threatening Duo than that had been their jailors.

Duo, for his part, pretended like there was absolutely nothing out of joint with Heero's twisted self, his arms around Heero's neck as if his life depended on it. He told himself that there was nothing to fear there – that despite the corrupt magic that had seized Heero's person, beneath its pulsating evil, the young man he loved was still in there, hiding. _Sometimes evil is a necessity_, Duo persisted, even as he watched Heero mercilessly shred through dwarven flesh as if it were mere butter; _if there was no evil, we would never know when we were doing right_. He told himself these things even as he supported Heero with his enchanted fires and summoned to their aid the hellish demons of the Burning Legion he had learned to tame through his own black studies. He would have been a hypocrite not to.

As he had before, Heero made straight for the scaffolding that rose up to the lip of the slave pit and freedom above. Fires raged all around them, some burning at Duo's behest, most at the dictation of chaos, as he plowed forward, his madness ruled only by the singular objective of getting Duo and himself out of there as quickly as possible. In this state, he wasn't quite sure of the hows or whys of that parameter, but only that it had to be met at any cost. With the aid of the Epyon demon's sight, he saw a future hewn only of blackness should he fail, and Heero was far from ready to die just yet.

When Heero finally alighted upon the scaffolding and started to charge upwards, Duo barely had time to assess what made him so uncomfortable about the ease with which it happened. It wasn't until they had gotten about a third of the way up that Duo notice the thickly rising smoke. Snapping his attention back down towards the base of the wooden structure, his decrepit face twisted in horror when he realized that the Dark Irons had rallied around the bottom of the scaffolding with torches to set it alight the second they'd started up it. Fearful they were already getting to high to make a safe fall, Duo tried desperately to call Heero's attention to this new threat, though his pleas fell upon deaf ears.

Despite the destruction that reigned across the burning Cauldron pit, all eyes were trained upon the scaffolding as the fire began to weaken it. It was only due to instincts that Heero finally ground to a halt, almost accidentally flinging the panicked Duo from his back as his feet skidded across the rough planks. He let out a growl of discontent between his sharpened teeth as he glowered down at the Black Irons, who were gathered smugly around the bottom of the scaffolding to watch their handiwork manifest itself.

"Heero!" Duo rasped as the scaffolding's struts began to lose their integrity, causing the entire thing to sway dangerously as Heero fought to keep himself balanced. He barely had time to use the scaffolding's last remaining support to leap into the air before it started to crumble into itself, feebly flapping his devilish wings without success for a few terrifying seconds before he managed to get the hang of it. Duo sucked in a breath as they plummeted: he really had no reason to fear death, and it had been an eternity since he had felt an emotion such as fear, but he was pretty sure there was no other way to describe what overwhelmed him as they rocketed back towards the ground.

It was the most alive he'd felt since the day he died.

Heero faceplanted into the rocky earth with a crunch that didn't sound very pleasant to Duo's ears, though the gusto with which he was on the move again made it unclear as to whether or not he had actually injured himself upon impact. It was all Duo could do to just hold on as Heero started speeding back in the direction they had come, half running, half exploiting his newfound flying skill to glide above the heads of any dwarves he couldn't immediately fell with one swoop of his talons. Duo had no idea if Heero knew where he was going, but he supposed it really didn't matter much. Maybe if Heero managed to murder everyone there, they could then just leave at their own leisure.

Back into the twisting caverns that deviated from the main expanse of the slave pit, Heero ran like a hound on the scent. Despite Duo's doubts as to how aware Heero was of their direction, every turn Heero took seemed to be the right one, and though they were still being pursued, they remained constantly on the move. With the help of some of Duo's minions and a few more well-cast spells, they managed to outrun most of the Dark Irons, leaving them behind a collapsed wall of rubble as they made their way into tunnels that seemed less burnt and sooty, with air that was easier to breathe and didn't stink so much of blood and gunpowder. Though Heero still moved with the urgency of someone being chased, Duo managed to wilt a bit more comfortably between his wings, letting out a much needed sigh of relief.

"Hey, Heero," he finally managed to call out as Heero carried him onwards. "Maybe we ought to stop and figure out where the hell we are."

But Heero kept on as if he hadn't even heard him, and it made Duo's insides feel leaden. It was actually rather concerning that there seemed to be more of a demon's presence than Heero's there, despite what Duo had tried to assure himself about Heero's buried conscience. This was the threshold of his skillset and he knew it: should Heero fall any more victim to the sigil's magic, even the most powerful relic in all of Azeroth wouldn't be able to save his soul – and Duo's, for that matter.

"Heero, stop!" Duo ordered in a firmer tone, pulling at Heero's matted hair. The aggression seemed to do the trick, and Heero slowed much like a horse whose sides had been stung with the spurs of its rider. Duo unhooked his spindly legs from around Heero's waist and slid off his back, setting down upon surprisingly smooth masonry. "Almost makes you think that they used to be sane dwarves when they burrowed through here," he hummed, tapping a tattered shoe against the granite underfoot. Truly, it was almost as if other hands had hewn the corridor they now stood in, which boasted square angles and dwarven detailing that seemed to have been lost to the Dark Irons when their clan went mad.

The words seemed meaningless to Heero, who loitered obediently next to Duo, though still poised like he meant to move or strike at the drop of a pin. His demon wings were bent by the confines of the tunnel, which even Duo had to stoop a little to stand in, and he seemed like an absolute giant in such a space with the intimidating features the sigil's magic had bestowed upon him. He understood that there was no longer any immediate danger, but not much more than that, his mind too clouded by the demon's dark thoughts to think entirely for himself. The snatches of clarity he found were ridden only with panic that he was in such a state and unable to calm himself with the ease he had in times past: it felt almost like sinking to the bottom of the ocean and reaching up towards the surface as you drowned.

"It's a wonder you managed to find this place, though," Duo was saying, rapping his bony knuckles against a carved wall and listening carefully to see if they were within the heart of the mountains. His knocks found only solid rock. Glancing back at Heero, he added with a wry smile, "How lucky."

Heero could only growl with discomfort as he tried to adjust his position in the tiny space.

Duo noticed Heero's clear distress and decided it was time to try and cull back the sigil's influence. He remembered that he had managed to talk the demon out of Heero's mind one way or another in times past, and he could only hope that his power was still enough to bring Heero back. It bothered him that the possibility of that was a bit on the grim side. Figuring that the best plan of attack was probably intimidation, he opened up Heero's hip pouch, which he had been carrying for the human during their escape, and fished around for the Epyon relic. "I think we can take it from here," he announced as he laid the sigil on the ground and started rummaging through his robes for the magical chisel. He muttered under his breath a hope that all this trouble for the damned thing proved worthwhile.

Pulling out the faintly glowing chisel, he touched its tip to the sigil's runed surface and met the demon's red eyes, which were watching him ever so carefully, with a defiant stare. "You will return to your prison and leave the human as he was," Duo commanded sharply; "Obey me, or I shall destroy the only thing that ties you to this world."

The response Duo got was far from what he had expected or wanted: Heero's lips curled into a dangerous smirk that clearly did not belong to him, and an evil voice that definitely was not his own emerged when he opened them. "_Do thisssss,_" the voice hissed; "_Do thisssssss as I resssside here in thissss human vessssel, and I shall take him ssssstraight to hell with me…."_

When the gravity of what the demon was saying finally sunk in, Duo was horrorstruck. Of course with the two of them fused as much as they were now, destroying the Epyon demon would only kill Heero right along with it, and the realization that there wasn't much of a way around it left Duo incredibly frustrated. Angrily, he flung the chisel to the floor and knocked both it and the sigil against the wall with one swipe of his arm. He glowered dangerously at Heero's twisted face and cursed vehemently. This was all his own damned fault….

The demon clearly wasn't finished, though, ready to go for the kill as Duo dejectedly went about collecting the relics he'd thrown aside in anger. "_I let you run out of that ssssslave pit – that wassss fun, all that killing,_" he continued, still speaking through Heero's mouth. "_I thought I'd let you run along once we got away, warlock, but I guessssssss it'sssss not to be…."_ As he spoke, he started to raise a taloned hand to Duo, flexing his fingers menacingly as he started to creep towards the undead sorcerer with mal intent.

Despite the guilt Duo was berating himself with, he was still able to react to the demon's threats with ease. Just as the demon was about to command Heero's clawed hand to violently slash across Duo's middle, Duo suddenly leapt to his feet, head bent down as he stampeded forward, focusing a ball of magical energy in the center of his outstretched palm. The synergy of power at the helm of Duo's charge connected with the demon's chest before any harm befell him, its sheer strength actually managing to send the demon careening backwards down the tunnel as Duo continued to press on forward. "I'll teach you to toy with the things I care about!" he roared despite the energy it cost him to do so.

The sheer force of Duo's anger coupled with his enraged magic actually caused Heero's demonized body to shatter straight through the rock wall at the end of the tunnel, which turned out to simply be a barrier between the place where they had been standing and another tunnel that cross-sectioned it. The pair careened into the opposite wall of the new passageway, which halted Duo's onslaught at last and sent them crumpling down into a tangled pile of tattered robe and devil wing on the ground. A tiny shower of rubble trickled down from the indentation they had left in the rock face above as Duo blearily tried to reassess his surroundings, while Heero lay unconscious and bloody beneath him. Duo could have sworn he heard someone calling his name, but his head was pounding too hard to be able to tell for sure. He wished he could just close his eyes….

"I'm sorry, Heero," Duo murmured, looking down at Heero's face, which somehow still managed to look appealing to Duo despite the demonic features that marred his dirtied complexion. "Maybe I really am just a terrible liar, making promises I couldn't keep after all," he whispered, leaning down so that only Heero's deaf ears might listen.

The disappointment overpowering him was the closest thing Duo had gotten to sadness in a very long time, but there was no other way to describe his current state. It made him wish that he could actually feel Heero when he laid his hands upon him or taste his lips should he try to kiss him. He bent himself over Heero, sorry and frustrated that even if he should do so, it would be no more than a gesture. Not that Heero would reciprocate should he have been awake to, Duo thought as he leaned in to touch his withered lips to Heero's, if merely for masochism's sake. "Only fit for a monster, huh," Duo said against Heero's still mouth before wilting back to the ground, fatigued and defeated.

He lay motionless next to Heero, the embers of times they'd shared dancing in his empty eye sockets as he stared blankly at the surrounding passageway. Maybe, if there was anything to feel, it was pain. What a fool he was.

Maybe if he closed his eyes just this once, he wouldn't have to open them anymore.


	20. A Light in the Dark

**Title: **_**The Forsaken**_

**Author: **Link Worshiper

**Pairings:** 1=2, maybe some others if I feel like it

**Rating: **PG-13

**Stuff:** Fantasy AU, fluff, sap, language, adventure, WoW nerdiness

**Disclaimer:** I own Gundam Wing action figures? Warcraft and its lore belongs to Blizzard Entertainment. Both things are being played with out of fangirl love.

Thanks to danse and Natea for the once over. Despite the fact this is part of Natea's birthday present, I still needed her to fill me in on the Alliance history they don't teach us on Horde, so thanks for that also =P

--

_Part XX_

_A Light in the Dark_

--

Trowa was vastly on edge.

Though he had a shortcut and the protection of a holy priest, he couldn't help but feel like there was something else he was forgetting. At first he thought it might have been the presence of Wufei Hellscream, whose attitude was beginning to show through the longer they spent in one other's company, but considering the last set of traveling companions he'd been with could be just as moody, he wasn't so sure it only that. Maybe it was a sense of threat that Wufei also seemed to exude, as he was never slow to remind Trowa that he was the right hand of the Warchief Thrall, and despite how flippantly Trowa had waved off Heero and Duo whenever they came up in conversation, the blood elf prince couldn't help but be dubious of how legit Wufei thought his purpose was.

Trowa's suspicions that Wufei had been silently questioning some of the things he had thus said were confirmed as they approached the entrance to the abandoned mines Quatre had suggested they navigate to Elwynn. Trowa barely stopped to study the crumbling structure that cut into the side of the ashen crags before proceeding, but Wufei was more cautious, coming to an abrupt halt as he stubbornly eyed the rotten post and lintel that held the mountain aside. There was no denying that the mineshaft had been left in disrepair ages ago, and considering the risks involved with taking an uncharted, underground path, Wufei decided to voice his doubt that following through on Quatre's suggestion was such a good idea after all. "How can we _really_ trust the word of that human priest?" he called out after Trowa, who had already disappeared into the gloom of the mineshaft. He took a gruff step forward, adding, "You haven't even met him; what makes you think that he's not full of mal intent?"

The echo of Trowa's boots crunching across the gravel inside the mine stopped for a moment, and then grew in volume as he returned to the mouth of the mineshaft, his face the very picture of grim practicality. "It serves him to aid my quest," Trowa explained, still falling back on his typically vague answers. He paused, pondering something to himself before continuing. "Besides, he's consistently kept his word to me in the past." A small chuckle twanged his speech as he went on; "I think he might actually be a _good person_."

Wufei caught the tweak of smile on Trowa's lip, but wasn't sure that it was one generated out of pure sarcasm. He chose to ignore it for the time being and said instead, "That still doesn't mean we should trust him implicitly. Even _good people_ deceive." He crossed his arms and stood stiffly so that he might meet Trowa with a look of dissatisfaction when he reemerged from the darkness of the mine, ready to drive his point home the moment he glimpsed the elf's face again. "After all, they say that even Treize Kushrenada was a _good person_ before he became the Lich King, back when he was a mere human prince," Wufei emphasized when Trowa returned to the mouth of the passageway; "They say it was with the _best of intentions_ that he descended on a plagued village in his own kingdom and wiped out every man, woman and child that lived within – that he drew the evil blade Frostmourne with the same –"

Trowa silenced Wufei's overzealous retort with a rather unsettling, blank glare of indifference. Of course he knew that what Wufei had said was completely valid, but he didn't want to think too much on it, for he knew that his rationality and biases would quickly win out over his gut instincts in the end. With a frown, he killed the topic by saying, "Not even gods are incapable of evil. But that doesn't mean that we need mistrust every soul that treads the earth."

Wufei opened his mouth to argue back, but Trowa with that same uncaring stare blackening his green eyes was enough to make him rescind the urge. He instead settled for muttering under his breath that it still did to be wary around those who had wronged one in the past, charming personality or otherwise, and started to trudge after Trowa and his pet lion, who had already returned to the darkness of the mineshaft. He suppressed a shudder at the cold chill that ran down his spine the moment the blackness enveloped him, wondering how dwarves could ever stand to live hidden from the sun as they did.

They descended into the heart of the mountain by the light of rusted lantern Trowa had found in an old mining cart and lit with the aid of a flint and tinder from his hip pouch. There was no telling how much oil was left in it, but Trowa hoped that there was at least enough oil to get them most of the way through; he couldn't say that he fancied the idea of having to tear his cloak for the sake of creating a makeshift torch should the flame die out prematurely. As they walked, the weight of Wufei's angry glare constantly on his back, Trowa couldn't help but let himself continue to ask himself all the while why Quatre's word constantly rang so true in his ear, even though he had sworn he wouldn't question the matter too deeply. But Wufei had planted the seed of doubt, and it left Trowa only guessing at what Quatre's motivations could truly be, and for the first time, he found the notion discomforting.

All at once, he ceased walking, his impediment so unexpected that Heavypaw trod a few paces ahead before he realized, and Wufei crashed absently into Trowa's back, nearly knocking the lanky elf prince over. Without even bothering to turn around to address the orc, Trowa simply asked, "What is it about Quatre that makes you think he is not reliable?"

Once Wufei realized that Trowa was referring to the human priest, his face took on the scowl he usually reserved for talk of the Alliance and said with an air that was rather haughty and derivative, "Because he is the enemy." He honestly thought this answer was obvious.

Unexpectedly, Trowa whirled around, his face ablaze with an unfamiliar passion that seemed such a stark contrast to the expressionless mask he'd worn earlier. "That is hardly a reason!" he snapped before he had a chance to control the words pouring out of his mouth. When he finally came back to his senses, he blinked in surprise, unable to believe that he had actually said that, and quickly muttered an apology he wasn't sure was that sincere. By the Sunwell, he was starting to sound suspiciously like Heero and his uncertainty towards faction lines. It was unsettling how much this realization didn't bother him.

However, Wufei was starting to reach the end of his rope with Trowa and his ambiguous ties. "It is more than sufficient!" he snapped roughly, fighting the urge to reach for his axe to lob off Trowa's head then and there. "The Alliance has consistently been at odds with us, despite the few times we have been forced to legion with them for the sake of a common goal. There is no reason not to be concerned that your human priest has set us on a path to disturb some long-sleeping creature beneath the Redrocks."

Trowa wasn't impressed by Wufei's confrontational attitude. "If it's such a concern," he bit back, "then why do you follow so complacently?"

Wufei was glad he had a ready answer for this, because this debate was clearly never going to go anywhere. "Have you not already forgotten that I am indebted to you?" he reminded Trowa wryly; "And if it is your will to walk boldly to your death, I am honourbound to follow you to that end."

With a snort and a roll of his eyes, Trowa turned around and said to himself, "You orcs are all the same."

"So are you elves," Wufei groused just loud enough for Trowa to hear, though the regal prince chose to pointedly ignore the jibe.

No sooner had they reached this stalemate did they suddenly become aware that the earth was trembling beneath their feet. Unable to really determine where the source of the tremor was coming from, Heavypaw paced anxiously around Trowa and Wufei, while they warily glanced about with their weapons drawn, preparing for the advance of some enormous and vicious cave beast. Wufei barely had time to shoot Trowa a livid stare that seemed to say, _'This is all your fault,'_ before the rumbling reached a culmination and the cause of the quake suddenly rocketed straight through the stone wall a few yards further down the passage, flying smack into the craggy wall opposite and slumping to the ground in a pile.

As he watched, the flutter of a brackish hued braid was the first thing to catch Trowa's eye, and almost immediately, he was hurrying towards the wreckage and calling Duo's name with a fearful concern that forgot all the resentment he'd been harbouring towards the warlock prior. He and Heavypaw skidded to a halt a few feet off, relieved that Duo still seemed to be capable of moving a little, and watched as he shakily held himself over Heero's unconscious form and bent low. Trowa suddenly reeled at the sight, though it was unclear even to him if the reaction was to the sudden observation that Heero's body was twisted by evil, or because Duo was now pressing his ragged lips to Heero's demonized ones.

"What is it?" Wufei's voice muttered into his ear as he came to stand beside Trowa, though Trowa didn't bother benefiting the orc with a verbal answer. Instead, he stood there dumbly as Duo collapsed back to the ground, transfixed by the icy blue glow that had overtaken Heero's body the moment Duo had kissed him. The light exuded a power that tempted Trowa's hunger for the arcane, and yet, he couldn't bring himself to interrupt the pure magic as it chased away the fel influence over Heero's person and returned his visage to the one Trowa remembered leaving with Duo in Thelsamar.

It wasn't until the silvery iridescence had completely faded from Heero's body that Trowa dared to even breathe. Cautiously, he took a step towards the unconscious pair, uncertain what he really ought to do. He couldn't be sure what he had really just witnessed, but he knew that it was probably some kind of miracle, and it gave him pause to wonder what benevolent god had been watching over Heero and Duo closely enough to intervene at such a desperate junction. For some reason, he found himself hoping that one of them would stir before he had to intervene, feeling like he would taint something otherworldly should he try to rouse either one.

Wufei was the one to stomp all over the moment with his usual directness once he realized the monstrous demon that had fallen from above posed absolutely no threat. He pushed right by Trowa to get a closer look at Heero and Duo, his eyes narrowing when he found himself staring at an undead warlock that was arranged rather comfortably next to nothing less than a pithy human. Remembering what Trowa had told him about the rogue he was searching for and the sort of company he was keeping, he grit his yellowed teeth, his lips pulling around the large tusks protruding from his wide mouth as his expression took on one of loathing. He whirled on Trowa, grimacing, "Clearly the ancestors have blessed the warchief's cause to dump these vagrants right into my lap."

Unsure what he ought to say, Trowa merely shrugged and watched as Wufei lumbered over towards Heero and Duo. The orc nudged both of them with the toe of his boot as if he wasn't entirely positive they weren't dead. Satisfied that they were, indeed, still alive, he then proceeded to give each of them a hearty kick in the stomach, a surefire method to revive them quickly.

The results were immediate: Duo awoke with a sputter and launched into an upright position, while Heero rolled over, coughing and gasping for the breath Wufei had knocked from his lungs. As Heero continued to recover, Duo took it upon himself to lay into whatever sadist had such nerve, shouting at Wufei before he even got a look at his face: "Who the hell are _you_?" he demanded to know, spoiling for a fight with a snap that definitely didn't belong to someone that had just been passed out in the middle of an underground tunnel.

"Lucky for you I was even here, ungrateful wretch," Wufei retorted, clearly unimpressed by Duo or his quick defiance. "Who knows how long you and that human whelp might have been left to rot down here if it weren't for me?"

Duo stared at Wufei, aghast. "I don't know who you think you are, but don't come nosing into my business like you even know the first thing about me," he snarled, crossing his arms in a rather petulant way. It made for a rather disturbing sight with Duo's ragged clothing and rotted flesh, particularly with the naked bones of one arm lying so casually across the dead skin of his other.

Wufei smirked around his tusks, his reddish skin making him look hellish in the flickering light cast by Trowa's lantern. "That is where you are horribly wrong, warlock," he countered, kneeling so that he might get right into Duo's face as he spoke. Holding a stern finger under the undead summoner's nose, he said, "I know that you are going to return with me to Orgrimmar clapped in irons for convalescing with the enemy."

"You and what army?" Duo retorted, equally unimpressed with Wufei as the orc was he. Were he able, he might have spat right into his face just to drive his point home.

Wufei didn't appreciate the way Duo refused to be intimidated by his threats. "The entire Horde if it must be so," Wufei snapped, finally losing his patience. "If you had any idea what the whole of Azeroth has been suffering at the behest of your… your _childish romping_ – you would turn _yourself_ in!" Wufei sent a dark glare at Heero, who was still lying, short of breath, in the nearby shadows; "That damned human of yours – if you could even still call him that – cannot be left to wander free any longer," he said, his voice taking on a strangely somber quality.

Duo stared back at Wufei incredulously, and then past him, fixing his stare on Trowa, who still stood behind him. With his face arranged into an expression that silently wondered what he was doing in the company of the orc at all, Duo said, "You say it like he's got to have a jailor or something. It's not like _I_ haven't been taking care of him."

Trowa only stared back at Duo without even flinching, his eyes completely unreadable in the darkness, while Wufei opened his mouth to let Duo know everything that was wrong with such a notion. He never got a chance to even get started on his tirade, though, for just as he was about to, Heero sat up and interrupted the conversation. "Don't talk about me as though I'm deaf or dumb," he said, his voice still a little weakened from the lack of oxygen in his chest. "I am perfectly capable of looking after _myself_."

Now it was Heero who had to bear the weight of everyone's stare. Even Duo was looking at him in a way that, despite the lack of malice in his expression, clearly denoted that he begged to differ. The culmination of those three pairs of eyes on him actually managed to make the usually confident Heero waver on his claim a little, especially when he caught sight of the Wufei's lips moving with a low mutter of doubt. It was faint, but he was just barely able to make out, "At least not deaf…" before the orc became still as the other two once more.

The eerie silence was more unnerving to Heero than even the cruelty of the slave driving Dark Irons, but he made sure that it didn't show in his face as he met the eyes of Duo, Trowa and Wufei with a placid stare of his own. His voice even as he spoke, he announced with a tiny swallow, "I don't need to prove to any of you that I am more than adept at surviving. I'd have been long dead if I wasn't."

There was a tiny clink as Trowa, still without a single word, set down his lantern and assumed a cross-legged position on the uneven ground, leaning heavily on one knee as he continued to watch the scene as if he were somehow removed from it. Heavypaw's panting ghosted through the dead air, punctuated every now and then with a far off drip-drip that echoed from somewhere else in the mines. Wufei, clearly through with wasting his words on Alliance scum, merely shifted from one foot to the other as he examined a nearby rock face, the faint grind of his plate armour highlighting his every movement, while Duo just looked at Heero as though he were trying to decide what exactly he should say next.

Heero didn't like the scrutiny one bit, even if their intentions were for the good of everyone involved. With a frown and a bit of haughty acerbity, he got to his feet and said, "Maybe it would take a miracle for one of _you_ to make it this far as I have, but _I_ can handle it." He made a show of dusting off his tunic, pretending as though their opinions, valid as each may or may not be, didn't make a difference to him. Then he turned like he meant to keep walking on without them, nevermind that he didn't have a lantern or a destination of his own.

"You walk to a lonely grave, then," came Duo's voice, cracking slightly. "You don't have to believe me, Heero, but the curse is spreading – spreading throughout you… to all of Azeroth…." His voice wavered like he wanted to say something else, and Heero managed to glance back over his shoulder in time to see Duo surreptitiously shoot wary glances at Trowa and Wufei. "To me," he mumbled, mostly to himself, leaving Heero to wonder what exactly he meant by that.

Fed up with all this standing around, Wufei's voice cut through the gloom and changed the mood of the group with a blunt course of action. "If he's that lost to the darkness already, I say we kill him." There was something distinctly morbid about the look on Wufei's face and the way he was gripping the haft of his battleaxe.

"Go ahead and try!" Heero shouted, immediately sinking into a battle-ready crouch. He hadn't liked Wufei's attitude from the moment the orc had rudely awoken him with that kick to the ribs and was more than ready to exact revenge on him for the low blow.

"You idiots – stop! You know not what you do!" Duo shouted, leaping to his feet. He reached out and grabbed Heero by the sleeve of his doublet and held his skeletal hand up to Wufei as a warning that he best back off. He felt like he had explained the reasons why they couldn't just off Heero no less than a thousand times and didn't really feel like taking the time to educate Wufei on the matter just because he was late to the party. "Take my word for it, this is something we will want to do by the book," he said in lieu of such a lecture and hoped it would suffice.

It was clear that Wufei didn't like the fact that Duo had not only intervened in a duel, but that he had also come to the defense of a human. Still, since Thrall wanted Heero to be brought back alive, he decided he would accept the vague excuse for sparing Heero's life – even if it was only temporarily. He nodded and sheathed his axe, though he made sure that both Heero and Duo were well aware of the fact that he only did so grudgingly.

All this while, Trowa had been so quiet, he was almost forgotten even though he was sitting closest to the dancing light of the lantern. It was only when he chose that moment to speak up that any of the others even took notice of him again. "What happened since the last time I saw you, Duo?" he asked softly. "There is an urgency to you that I do not remember."

Duo blinked at Trowa, shocked to silence by the sentimentality of his question. It was a side of the blood elf prince that didn't come out very often, and Duo wondered what Trowa had been brooding over to expose such vulnerability. Narrowing his eyes with suspicion in case Trowa was trying to trick him, Duo wondered aloud, "I can't fathom what you mean."

Trowa glanced at Heavypaw, who had since fallen asleep at his side, and let out a dry cough. Then, returning his focus to Duo, who was still glowering at him with his tempered, glowing eyes, he drew in a deep breath and expressed as much of his thought process as he cared to share. "You can't pretend that something didn't happen in Thelsamar even before I left you. Sometimes, things are so transparent, you don't really need evidential proof," he said slowly, still unsure that he really wanted to tell Duo all this. "But now, I think I understand."

Duo was fed up with Trowa's taste for ambiguity and wasn't even remotely in the mood to play along. "Understand _what_?" he urged impatiently, his hands flopping to his sides in annoyance. "I swear to you, Trowa Sunbender, if you're gearing up for some kind of usless jib, I'll –"

"I'm completely serious, Duo," Trowa deadpanned so easily that it was impossible to doubt his sincerity. Unflinchingly, he continued: "There is something that binds you to that human, isn't there. Some kind of magic that can counter even the chaos of the Burning Legion and that evil sigil it has wrought."

Duo arched his eyebrows and crossed his arms again. "I'm listening," he said flatly.

With a defeated sigh that was almost uncharacteristic for Trowa, he said exasperatedly, "Don't do this to me Duo. You know what I mean; I'm not blind, after all."

To what exactly Trowa was referring suddenly became apparent to Duo, and the moment realization struck, his face was quickly transformed into one of abject panic. "You _saw_?" he gaped. Then his brows furrowed tightly over his nose as he added with a darker intonation, "How long were you standing there, watching?"

"Long enough," Trowa answered with an even stare of his own.

Meanwhile, as Duo and Trowa became locked in a battle of wills, Heero stood between them and wondered what they could possibly be talking about. He had only vague recollections of what had happened since he'd first summoned the demon's power in the Dark Iron forgery, like glimpses of a dream he'd seen while only being partially awake. Hadn't Duo been lying unconscious with him when they'd fallen from above? "The suggestion that I have some kind of latent, magical talent is ridiculous," he informed Trowa matter-of-factly, disliking the stench of antagonism that was starting to putrefy the air again. "Those were things I always left to the likes of Quatre or Lady Relena."

The mention of Quatre was met the complete opposite than what Heero had intended. A sneer on his face, Duo leaned towards Trowa and mocked, "Oh, that's right: maybe we should ask _Quatre_ about it."

At the mention of the priest, Wufei suddenly rejoined the conversation, which he'd only been half listening to out of boredom. "Yes, let's," he agreed in all seriousness. "The sooner we get back to Kalimdor, the better." He was flexing his sinewy hands like he was eager to grab Heero by the neck and drag him there on command. "We will not win the day by loitering in this dank place any longer."

"Where exactly _are_ we?" Duo asked, suddenly switching his attention to Wufei, who was, despite his brutish attitude, still less frustrating to Duo than Trowa at the moment. It was at least orcish nature to be a bit on the prickly side, which was enough for Duo to let Wufei's earlier action slide. He thought that a regal elf had absolutely no excuse to act as Trowa currently was – at least, to Duo's mind, anyway.

Wufei simply shrugged and then tossed his broad chin in Trowa's direction as he said, "The priest in Theramore told him this abandoned dwarven route would take us to Elwynn." His tightly pulled tail of black hair quivered behind his head as he shuddered at the mere mention of Relena Proudmoore's domain, unable to resist adding his own two cents: "But I still maintain that he has merely sent us on a trek to meet our end."

"Oh, _really_? Quatre again, is it? Then we _must_ trust it!" Duo drawled, shooting Trowa another unimpressed face, which went unacknowledged by the elf.

"Actually," Heero said, his quiet voice still managing to interrupt their arguing with its blunt matter-of-factness, "I believe it was a stroke of genius to send you this way on Quatre's part." He pointed to some of the debris littering the tunnel floor, drawing attention to some old rail spikes and discarded iron. "I think this might have been meant to house a tram rail whose construction has been long since discarded." He shrugged and said simply, "If that is the case, then it is as Quatre says, and we will surely be led straight into Stormwind."

Sure enough, upon closer inspection, there was evidence that Heero's theory was correct, for just at the rim of Trowa's lamplight, there lay a pair of rusted rails affixed to a line of worm-eaten ties that vanished into the darkness ahead of them. It was common knowledge that there was an operational tram that ran between Stormwind and the dwarven capitol of Ironforge, but to think that there were other such systems, logical as the case might have been, was not really something that had occurred to the three Horde loyalists.

Still, Wufei glared at the old construction site with distaste, his upward turning tusks making his frown seem even more severe. "Well, even if that is so, there is no telling what has chosen to lurk in this place," he maintained, unable to accept that someone from the Alliance would do anything but lead his kind to their demise. "And besides," he went on, turning his sharp stare on Heero and Duo again, "what does it matter if it goes to Stormwind or not? That human is coming to Kalimdor – _now_!"

With that, he closed the gap between them with a few quick strides and grabbed Heero by the hood of his cloak, almost threatening to choke the rogue as he yanked it backwards. Heero struggled to unhinge the golden lion's head that clasped the drape about his neck before he suffocated, while Duo's bony hand instinctively twitched at his side with the urge to lay a curse on Wufei with his dark magic for such an affront. Trowa and Heavypaw merely looked on with indifference.

Finally managing to free himself from his cloak, Heero stumbled forward, leaving but the black garment in Wufei's tight fist. "I'm not going anywhere with you," Heero snarled, massaging his reddened throat. "Not until I have gone to Stormwind to obtain for Duo what I have promised."

Duo's hand twitched again, but for a different reason this time. The light of his eyes dimmed for a moment as he contemplated what the best thing to say would be. At length, his eyes on the curled toes of his shoes, he mumbled, "Heero, maybe it's a good idea to go back after all. I appreciate that you want to see our bargain through, but… but to be truthful… I'm not sure even I have the power to help you anymore."

Heero could only stare at Duo like he didn't fully understand what Duo had just said. His brow furrowed and his lips were drawn into a tight frown as he said, "I think you are mistaken." It was hard to tell if he was naively in denial or just being incredibly stubborn.

But Duo gravely shook his head, still unable to meet Heero's eyes. "The last time you used the demon's power, I could barely tell where you ended and he began. I'm afraid that if I try to sunder you now, I'll just… make it worse," he said, still addressing the tops of his shoes and unable to express his worst fears in explicit terms aloud. "I think that Quatre's holy magic would be a better thing to bet on than anything I could do at this point."

"I don't care," Heero said flatly, sounding as if he hadn't even heard a word of what Duo had just said.

Incredulously, the other three stared openly at Heero. "What?" Duo wondered, bewildered, as he lifted his gaze from the dusty ground to meet Heero's serious face with an expression of disbelief.

"I said, 'I don't care,'" Heero repeated firmly. He didn't even cast a glance anywhere but at Duo's face as he continued to speak with even determination: "Take me to Kalimdor, very well – but not until I have found that elixir in the vaults of Stormwind Keep first."

"Heero, that's stupid," Duo protested, unsure he felt comfortable with Heero taking such a risk for no real reason. Considering that the longer they dallied on purging the Epyon demon from Heero's soul, the more fused they became, Duo did not like the idea of continuing on a route that would most likely lead to his death. "I will not let you throw your life away like this!" Duo shouted, though he soon found himself addressing Heero's back as the rogue boldly strode towards Trowa and the lantern, which he then proceeded to claim as his own.

Holding the lantern aloft in one hand, its light casting harsh, white shapes on his face, Heero said, "I am going to Stormwind whether you follow me or not. Duo has made every effort to save me; so, too, will I, him."

An incredibly heavy mantle of guilt descended upon Duo as he watched Heero turn his back on him again, ferrying their only light away. To be frank, Duo was pretty sure he had been mostly serving himself since he had found Heero slinking around that graveyard, driven by the silly notion that he might be able to win Heero again should his heart resume its beat. But the seriousness of the situation had ballooned far more than he had anticipated, and he had reached a point of maturity that allowed him to put things in perspective. Better that at least _one_ of them was still able to enjoy life than neither, and if Duo had any say in it, he'd choose Heero for that privilege over himself any day. And that wasn't something he'd only realized in death, or a responsibility bred out of duty, but rather something he'd known since he'd first held Heero in his arms.

It seemed almost natural to come to the decision that he did, and with new resolve, Duo tossed his shoulders at Trowa and Wufei, and then turned to follow Heero before his light was completely extinguished by the gloom.

--


	21. Infiltration

**Title: **_**The Forsaken**_  
**Author: **Link Worshiper  
**Pairings:** 1=2, maybe some others if I feel like it**  
Rating: **PG-13  
**Stuff:** Fantasy AU, fluff, sap, language, adventure, WoW nerdiness

**Disclaimer:** I own Gundam Wing action figures? Warcraft and its lore belongs to Blizzard Entertainment. Both things are being played with out of fangirl love.

Thanks to Taw and Natea for the once over. Despite the fact this is part of Natea's birthday present, I still needed her to fill me in on the Alliance history they don't teach us on Horde, so thanks for that also =P

OH SHIT GUYS. I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK ME A MILLION YEARS. LIFE IS CRAZYYYYYYY RIGHT NOW D:

By that, I mean I'm still unemployed and have been doing a fuck-ton of commissioned illustration to barely keep my head above water; doesn't leave that much room for writing or even creative thought, which sucks so hard, I can't even tell you. It didn't help that this chapter was giving me a lot of trouble for quite some time to boot. I'm still not totally pleased with it, but I am also insanely critical of myself.

_Part XXI_  
_Infiltration _

The aged tracks terminated a few yards before the tunnel did, and, in the face of the obstruction, the abrupt end to Heero's march nearly caused the motley crew following him to stumble clumsily into his back. There arose an aggrieved clamor from the lot of them, Wufei complaining about following Trowa so closely only because the elf had taken off so unexpectedly after Heero and Duo, to which Trowa only scoffed that he had been forced to chase them down lest they lose their only light source by Heero's hand. Heero berated them with a sharp glare and a word that they were practically beneath Stormwind, though he found himself met with disdain. But despite Heero's attempt to take charge, they were, instead, only silenced by the realization that there was a faint glow emanating from behind the wooden barricade, the source of which could be none other than the tunnel housing the main rails of the Deeprun tramway and thus, a main artery of the Alliance's trade routes between Stormwind and Ironforge. They fell in line grudgingly, their faces making their impatience with this errand far from a secret.

"Well?" Duo asked, trying hard not to pay Trowa and Wufei that much attention; "What now?"

Heero had a few ideas in mind already, but all of them involved knocking down the ancient wood that sealed the two passageways apart. He was tempted to just snatch Wufei's axe and start hacking away at the timber, but even he had the sense to know that something like that wasn't the most tactical plan in the world. He crossed his arms and frowned, the lantern swinging next to his torso and warming the leather of his tunic as he glared into the light while the others looked on idly. The grim silence was broken only once by the squeal of metallic wheels on the rails beyond, the clang of machinery rising to a loud crescendo and then fading away as the tram car passed by en route to Ironforge. Heero tried to calculate in his head how long it would take the tram to reach its destination and then pass by again, but was only frustrated by the notion that it would probably do so without pause for what lurked nearby in the darkness. Then, he wished Quatre had been there.

A long silence ensued. Duo squatted down next to Heero's feet and idly traced patterns in the dirt with the tip of an exposed phalange until Asahi popped out of Heero's hip pouch and scuttled out to rejoin his proper master. Wufei had moved towards the wooden barricade and was currently pounding at it with the butt of his axe as though he meant to test its durability, while Trowa stood with his back to the group, idly staring back the way they'd come. The gloom of the mineshaft still whispered around them, though it was dotted with the crackle of gnomish electricity, which lit the main railway beyond the boarded-up archway impeding them. Every now and again, a mechanized wail would resonate from somewhere afar.

"How far away is Ironforge anyway?" Duo stabbed through the awkward quiet. "It's been quite some time, and that tram has yet to pass by on its return to Stormwind."

To be honest, Heero wasn't sure. There was no real way to tell where along the route this forgotten passageway connected until they broke down the wood and saw for themselves. So he merely said, "It depends on how close we are to our destination."

"So we could be sitting right on the doorstep of the Alliance capitol as we speak?" came Wufei's displeased voice, his reddened eyes glinting sharply with the embers of Heero's lantern. He turned to the other Horde loyalists and protested vehemently: "I say we turn around before it's too late. Who's to say there isn't an entire army mobilizing on the other side of this wall right now?"

Duo was really started to get tired of Wufei's attitude, justified or otherwise. Though he did not rise to his feet, his anger cut through the darkness, honing straight for the orc: "And who would have alerted the Alliance that we were here at all? Nobody, that's who," he snapped with a curling sneer, jabbing at the dirt with his bony finger and nearly impaling poor Asahi, who had been marching along the patterns Duo had been drawing on the ground. "If you're so doubtful of how this will end, then go running back to Orgrimmar and cry to your warchief about it. But for the love of Elune, _desist prattling_; it's hurting my head." He rubbed his temple as if he had a migraine, though the words were really more figurative than anything.

Wufei snorted at Duo, unimpressed. He grunted dismissively at Heero, "Rogue, be sure to curb your dog if we are to continue this way. His barking is _insufferable_." He said the last word with an emphasis drawn from the gusto with which he swung his axe about, embedding the blade into the wooden barrier with a very audible _thwack_ that made the very earth quiver and rain debris down upon them.

"Quiet, all of you," Trowa spoke up, his regal tone commanding their attention immediately. He combed dirt out of the long, red bangs that were combed across his face, crinkling his nose with silent disgust every time he picked out a particularly thick clump, and went on, "I came all this way to see if the human was capable of stealing from his own king, and now that we are here, I refuse to think that all that journeying was for naught." He pointed a directive finger at Heero, declaring, "You are going to steal that elixir for Duo if it's the last thing you do, and I will be there to gloat as Milliardo Wrynn realizes that one of his own has turned traitor, oh yes." A dangerously pleased smirk crossed Trowa's face; "Ah, to see the look on that smug bastard's face when he realizes his prize assassin cast him aside at the behest of a _dead warlock_! O, the very thought will kill him!"

As Trowa spoke, Duo silently got to his feet and crept into a dark corner so he might brood without anyone being able to see the mixed emotions touching his face. He might have expected that Trowa's true purpose in tagging along was something along those lines, but it was some of the detailing that needled at Duo. He knew Trowa could only have inklings of the true nature of Heero and Duo's past relationship because Duo had never told anyone about it. He couldn't decide if he should just come clean about it so that he wouldn't have to endure such derision anymore. Still, it was doubtful that Trowa would accept their history so easily, but Duo also knew that he didn't want to lavish details to make the story more palatable for Horde ears, especially with Heero so near. Truth be told, the entirety of it would probably just make an enemy out of all of them, and Duo was already struggling as it was with the task of regaining Heero's trust. He wondered what Heero would do if he found out that Duo still kept a few secrets from him yet.

Always the one to be grounded in reality, Wufei spoke up again, voicing his dubiousness towards their quest yet again. "That's all well and good," he said, "but how's a lot like us going to really pull this off? You can't even come up with a strategy for intercepting the tramcar, much less getting into the city itself!" Then he jabbed an accusatory finger at Heero, frowning tightly around his upturned tusks: "And if you mean to tell me that you're just going to send that rogue in there _alone_, well –"

"You _idiot_, of _course_ we wouldn't send him in alone. Why in the hell do you think I came with him all this way in the _first place_?" Duo snapped, glaring over his shoulder. He was absolutely unable to handle how contrary Wufei had been since he joined up with them and refused to allow the orc the pleasure. He boldly stepped to Heero's side and snatched his wrist into his fleshy hand; "I have my reasons for pursuing this as I have, and I suppose Trowa does too. If you have a problem with it, Hellscream, then _you_ can loiter in the woods on guard duty. Or you can rot down here; I don't much care." His hand tightened around Heero's forearm, a silent testament to his allegiance and loyalty to him.

Any retort Wufei might have been boiling with was lost as the clang of the tramcar began to resonate in the adjacent tunnel, a sure sign that it was approaching their location on its return trip to Stormwind. Heero wasn't sure if it was the fact that Duo was gripping his wrist so tightly, or if it was merely his nature, but as the tram's machinations grew steadily louder, Heero decided he'd had enough strategic thinking for one day. In a heartbeat, he leapt at Wufei and ripped the battleaxe from his unsuspecting hands. Then, he whirled towards the boarded up archway and took to the rotting timber like a man possessed. Woodchips flew through the air and a sliver of light began to break through the darkness as the other three stood back and stared at Heero, dumbstruck by the zeal and efficiency with which he hacked through the barrier. Even Duo, who was familiar with Heero's temperaments, was having a hard time alienating this single-minded relentlessness in Heero from the demon that lay dormant within him. The very suggestion was one that left Duo greatly disturbed.

Heero managed to break down enough of the wood to get through to the main railway, which sat at the bottom of a deep trench almost immediately beyond the archway. Just as the tramcar was approaching, he dashed along the narrow ledge to meet it with a speed that almost seemed inhuman. The vehicle was self-propelled by gears unseen beneath its passenger deck, but Heero seemed to have confidence he could stop the tram long enough to get his companions on board as well. Perhaps it was because Heero had once been a frequent rider of the tram in the past that he knew to pry up a section of the metal flooring in order to get at the engine, but the precision with which he did so was also rather uncanny. With one fell motion, he thrust the haft of the battleaxe into the gears below, jamming the gears and bringing the railcar to a screeching halt mere feet from the archway where Duo, Trowa and Wufei could only stand and watch, mortified.

As the high tension of the moment subsided, Duo and the others took the cue to step into the light, the harshness of which momentarily blinded Trowa and Wufei's mortal eyes. But while Trowa actually found himself impressed by Heero's recklessness and lauded Heero with clapping, Wufei was far from pleased. Just short of ready to take off Heero's head, he stormed onto the stalled tramcar, roaring, "How dare you degrade a warrior's weapon in such a way? His weapon is his soul!"

"Calm down, Hellscream," Trowa said with a roll of his eyes as he, Heavypaw and Duo followed the orc onto the tram. He strode over towards where the axe protruded from the exposed engine. "Just think of how much honour is bound to the tool that helped us infiltrate the Alliance viper nest," he said as he gripped the axe at the neck and gave it a sharp tug, jerking it free of the gears that it had stalled. He had meant to hold it out for Wufei to take, but he never got the chance, for the moment the gears were able to turn properly again, the tram suddenly lurched forward, nearly sending the entire party over the edge and onto the tracks.

"For the love of Elune, Trowa! Are you trying to kill us?" Duo gasped, his arms wrapped around one of the trestles that arched up over the passenger deck and supported a mechanism channeled electric power from an unseen line of cabling fixed into the steel-clad roof of the tunnel. Were any of the Horde loyalists a bit less stubborn, one might have actually noted how ingenious gnomish engineering truly was.

"Why do you always say that?" Trowa asked, somehow able to catch his balance with far more ease than the rest of them, standing naturally with his pet lion as though he were still on unmoving ground. "I thought you abandoned the faith of the moon when you died? Or surely at least when you began studying the dark arts."

"Old habits die hard, I guess," Duo replied, still clinging to the trestle, though the dark stare he simultaneously shot Trowa also seemed to tell him that it was none of his damn business.

Trowa simply shrugged, nonplused by Duo's attitude. "Forgive me," he said; "I just think it's odd for one who manipulates the demons of chaos to still swear by a goddess who opposes that very thing."

The tone in Trowa's voice vastly irritated Duo, and he almost forgot that he was hanging onto the trestle for a reason as he raised a bony fist at the blood elf prince. "For someone who doesn't like talking about himself, you sure ask a lot of questions," Duo hissed. "The day I tell you about why I became a warlock is the day you stop being so judgmental." And with that, he refused to say another word about it, while Trowa pretended like he didn't care.

Meanwhile, Heero stood at the front of the tram, his arms crossed as the corridor rushed by on all sides. An unsettling haze had besotted him now that they were so close to Stormwind. When they had first set out, Heero remembered how he would have given anything to be back here, receiving high honours from his king for his service to the place he called his home. Now, he found himself somewhat wishing that their journey could have gone on forever, or at least a little while longer. There had been something ultimately freeing about wandering across Azeroth with Duo and Trowa, invigorated by the fact he could choose his company without fear of retribution.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he nearly toppled over when the tram ground to a halt at the end of the track. The station was usually deserted, something which Heero was silently thankful for as he and his unruly companions disembarked onto the Stormwind platform. As the Horde loyalists absorbed the oddities of the station's gnomish design, Heero had to admit that there was a certain comfort in the familiarity of this place. With a glance at Duo, whose undead nature left him in a strange limbo between Horde and Alliance, the irony that both the warlock and his home city could invoke the same sensations within was not lost on Heero. He just wasn't exactly sure what it meant.

"Okay, here's what's going to happen," Duo was saying, his confidence returned to him now that he was no longer on the speeding tramcar. "Heero and I are going to infiltrate the castle keep, for that is where the treasure we seek is held," he said, outlining his sketchy plans to the others. "Hellscream, you're on diversion duty," he decided, not really caring what Wufei had to say on the matter. "I don't care if that means running through the streets hacking off the head of every Alliance soldier you see, just as long as none of them are paying attention to the rest of us." Then, he turned to Trowa, but he never got a chance to give Trowa an order, for the elf clearly had other ideas.

"There is no need for one such as myself to go sneaking about," Trowa announced, idly stroking Heavypaw's thick mane. "I think I will go visit with Milliardo Wrynn while you are about on your errand."

"Not in those colours you're not," Duo quipped, though it was hard to say if he really cared all that much that Trowa had his own plans. "In red, gold and green, you are like a beacon for Silvermoon from a league away."

A rather sly smile crept across Trowa's face as he retorted, "I should hope so: I am, after all, Silvermoon's prince."

"All the more reason someone will want you dead," Duo cautioned.

"Diplomacy dictates otherwise," Trowa countered, already checking his gear like he meant to get going right away. "Besides," he added, reaching into his hip pouch and withdrawing the familiar owl charm from its depths and holding it up for to see, "I have this. So long as I mean them no harm, then no harm will befall me – I was promised."

"Looks like it's too late for that," Wufei grunted under his breath, clearly ready for some action. Being reduced to the level of a mere sentry no longer bothered him when he thought about battling his way through the city to its front gates. He slapped his axe into the open palm of his off hand and let out a mighty roar, practically daring any nearby soldiers to come investigate the disturbance.

No one even had a chance to reprimand Wufei for being so reckless. Within mere seconds, there was a shout from the top of the stairs that led up to the city streets above, announcing the approach of two fully armoured soldiers. Both were clearly a little surprised when they found themselves facing a Horde party that seemed to be in the company of one of their own, and the hesitation it induced cost them the upper hand as Wufei charged them eagerly. He barreled straight into one of the soldiers and sent him crashing to the ground on his back, Wufei sitting on his chest with his axe ready to lay into the poor guard's head.

Even as Trowa drew his bow, commanding Heavypaw to assist Wufei, and Duo started to conjure one of his demons to deal with the other soldier, Heero could only stand and watch as if he had lost mastery of his own person. He felt removed from the scene as the soldier Wufei and Heavypaw were tearing apart began to scream in fear and agony, as if he were watching a play whose story he had no control over. When he'd last been in Stormwind, sentries such as them had been his comrades, loyal subjects of King Milliardo Wrynn, but now, as they defended their city against what they saw as intruders, they had become his enemy. Wufei raised his axe again in order to smash its blade back into the soldier's flesh, and all Heero could think of was how it didn't have to be this way between Horde and Alliance.

But then the other soldier was nearly upon Duo, charging at him with his sword drawn and a battle cry in his throat. It was all Heero could do to snap back to attention and leap between the unprotected warlock and his attacker, raising his dagger to meet the onslaught of the soldier's steel. Duo had a fistful of fire ready to blaze forth from his palm, and his blue voidwalker demon was clawing at the soldier's plate-covered back, but the fight had now become Heero's, and it seemed to have left them at a bit of a stalemate.

"Wh-What are you doing?" the solder asked Heero through grit teeth, clearly unsure as to why one of his own had come to the aid of a raiding party. "Are you not one of King Milliardo's top men?"

Heero hesitated, unsure what to say, and Duo called from behind, "I'll lay waste to him, Heero. Just step aside!"

That Duo not only knew Heero's name, but had also offered his assistance, was enough evidence for the soldier to make some quick deductions. Suddenly far more aggressive than he had been moments before, the soldier broke the lock between his and Heero's blades, swinging his over his head and preparing to strike down with the might of both hands. "Traitor!" he cried as he leapt at Heero again, this time aiming for the kill.

Heero barely had time to jab his dagger forward, impaling the soldier's throat through the unprotected space between his helm and his breastplate. A fountain of blood spurted out and speckled Heero's face, more of it bubbling out from the eye slits in the helmet's visor. He hardly noticed the gore, far more aware of how the soldier's body had become limp in his hands. Quickly, he dropped the corpse to the floor, where it landed awkwardly in a smear of its own blood.

With both soldiers dispatched, everyone relaxed, though Heero turned to find a rather grim look still written upon Duo's face. "Don't tell me you're having second thoughts _now_," he said as he banished his voidwalker back to the nether with a wave of his hand. "You can't hope that every encounter from now onwards will leave you so fortunate. You have to kill them before they kill you, or worse, go squealing to that swine of a king and alerting him of our presence here."

"Ideally, I'd like to not kill anyone," Heero said with a stubborn frown, though he knew in his heart of hearts that Duo was right. He usually didn't have a problem with eliminating adversaries, but then again, he also hadn't anticipated this much awkwardness in infiltrating the castle of his own king. The weakness was probably more infuriating to Heero himself than any of the others. He crossed his arms and shifted his weight from one foot to the other in agitation, saying, "From now on, our key operative is stealth. I'd like it to seem as if we were never here at all."

His eyes inevitably came to rest on the two corpses strewn across the tramway platform, and his frown deepened, his previous words implicating his thoughts exactly. Without having to say anything else, he and the others went about the grisly business of disposing of the bodies. The best place any of them could find to hide them was a sewage grate near the stairs, but were dismayed to find that the opening was too small to fit a pair of grown men in plate armour through. After a few failed attempts to force them through the grate anyway, it was Duo who had the idea to sever the limbs and decapitate the bodies after removing the armour, and Wufei was more than ready to follow through with the suggestion, though Trowa would only let him proceed after Heavypaw was allowed a sampling of the fresh meat. Once again, Heero found himself having an out-of-body experience as he watched Wufei butcher the two soldiers with a rather disquieting glee.

Through with that grisly business, Wufei wiped the blood from his axe blade onto his leather jerkin and hooked the weapon to his belt. Obviously satiated by the fighting, Wufei seemed in brighter spirits and more willing to put up with Heero and Duo's quest. "Don't worry about anyone noticing you," he said as if he had been game to do so the entire time; "I'll keep them too busy to even realize you're there."

With that, he jogged up the stairs and took to the streets. The immediate screams and commotion that ensued was a clear indicator that Wufei's unexpected emergence had startled the denizens of Stormwind into a mindless frenzy. Heero, Duo and Trowa lingered in the tramway station and listened, not quite sure they wanted to be met with the reality of whatever Wufei was doing up there. Heero hoped that the orc had the decency to simply stir up a commotion, not sure he would be able to forgive him if he found himself standing in the wake of a bloodbath when he finally left the station too.

"Don't look so pale," Duo commented, glancing at Heero from the corners of his eyes. "If there's one thing that idiot understands, it's battle tactics. He won't do anything disruptive enough to get them paranoid there's more of us."

Heero hoped Duo was right, but he couldn't safely say he shared Duo's confidence that Wufei would keep his head on straight. He'd seen the fire in the orc's eyes even when they were disposing of those two bodies, and he shuddered to think what someone who truly hated the Alliance that much would do if he were let loose in the very seat of its power. He had to forcibly steel himself, knowing that concerning himself with such fears was only going to distract him from their goal there. "We should get moving," he said, hoping to hasten their mission. "Lingering here will only spell more trouble."

It was then that Heero and Duo noticed Trowa had wandered off and was already halfway up the steps leading to the streets, Heavypaw trotting obediently at his heels. Immediately, Duo took offense to Trowa's immediate disregard to everything Heero had just said and quickly marched up after him. Grabbing Trowa by the hem of his cloak, Duo jerked the blood elf prince to a halt and held him fast as he growled, "And just where do you think _you're_ going?"

"Unhand me!" Trowa huffed, trying in vain to shrug Duo off. Heavypaw started gnawing at Duo's leg in an effort to help his master, but Duo's dead flesh and bone felt nothing of it.

"Just tell me where you have to be that's so much more important than here?" Duo pressed, gritting his yellowed teeth in a menacing scowl. "I thought we were going into this together."

"I think you are more than capable of babysitting your human pet without my assistance!" Trowa argued back, not about to admit that he felt very much on the outs without even the likes of Wufei to serve as a fallback ally. "Besides, there are things I can attend to while I wait for you to finish your thieving. I still mean to visit King Milliardo."

At once, Duo dropped Trowa's cloak and stood back, staring at the elf with a slightly cockeyed expression on his face. "Really?" he wondered aloud. "I thought you were joking about that."

"Surely you know I'm not the joking sort," Trowa scoffed back with folded arms and a frown, which then melded into a smirk as he added, "Though I do mean to humiliate him in front of his court that for all his sneaking about, his plans to crush the Horde were still foiled."

"Are you sure that's really a good idea?" Heero interjected from the bottom of the stairs, his even tone punctuated by his blue and sharp glare. "You might deceive us, and then all of this will have been for naught."

"The only deceiver here is _you_, traitor," Trowa jibed back, not about to let some human deride him in such a manner. "From the moment that king of yours took the throne, he has ignored the pleas of the Sin'dorei and would sooner see us die out than welcome us back into the arms of the Alliance. For that disgrace, I want to see his true face revealed before those he considers his most loyal."

Trowa's fist clenched at his side as he spoke, despite the lackadaisical air that permeated his tone. Not even Duo had seen the elf so impassioned, and against his better judgment, he crossed his arms and grudgingly allowed him to continue on his way. "T'will serve as a test of friendship," he warned as Trowa nodded and turned to go once more.

Had Duo been able to see Trowa's face, he might have seen the sentimental expression that crossed his features as he assured his friend of his loyalty. "You are my brother, Duo," he said; "Why would I ever want to endanger that?"

Before Duo had a chance to speak, Trowa took off running, disappearing over the horizon of the top step and into the noonday sun.

Though Wufei seemed to have done his job well, leaving the common streets of the city devoid of life, Heero didn't quite trust the open air, especially when he could still hear the commotion Wufei was stirring up rising in the distance. When he had first begun his life of vagrancy in Stormwind, the first thing Heero learned about the city was that its immense canal system was the fastest and stealthiest way to get around, and it was by this tried and true method that Heero chose to proceed. In such a bustling metropolis, no one stopped long enough to peer over the side of a bridge or down a ledge long enough to notice the likes of him slinking on by.

The tramway station was on the edge of the dwarven district of the city, naturally, but the good fortune in this was that it didn't make their trip to the castle very far. Creeping through the shadows, Heero led Duo passed a number of smithies and a bell maker, right up to the edge of the nearest canal before diving right in. Duo followed suit, trusting that Heero knew exactly what he was doing. He had to say, he was impressed by how long Heero was able to hold his breath, hardly needing to come up for air the entire way.

The canal flowed right up to the castle's outer curtain, passing through it by means of a grate fitted into a small archway. Not needing to breathe in the first place, Duo treaded water beneath the surface of the canal and watched as Heero masterfully took to the securing bolts with a small wrench he'd procured from his hip pouch. The force of the water pushed the grating out of the way the moment Heero had removed all the bolts, thus opening the way for them, and onward they swam until the canal began to shallow out somewhere in the bowels of the fortress. Able to stand with their heads above water, Heero and Duo alighted the waterway to find themselves at the mouth of the castle's sewers. With a small toss of his hand, Heero bade Duo to follow him some more, continuing into the dank labyrinth with a gloved hand over his mouth to keep from gagging at the stench.

"You certainly are at ease with this. I almost wonder if breaking into the castle vault was something you had been planning long before I suggested it," Duo commented as they went, nonplused by the smell. Asahi was happily riding on his shoulder as though the stink was actually something he was drawn to.

Heero's voice was muffled by the back of his hand as he responded, "Our guild was entrusted by King Milliardo with the secret passages into the castle vaults should the city ever need to be evacuated. In all my years of service, I have laid a few treasures to rest within."

"Heh, well, I guess he never thought one of them might betray such information like this," Duo proclaimed with smug triumph as he watched Heero start tapping at the slimy wall one brick at a time. He was eager, almost unable to believe that he was finally moments away from restoring the life he'd lost, not only with breathing flesh, but one that included Heero in it again.

"He is an arrogant man," Heero muttered as he tried to remember where the switch for the secret passageway was, only able to recall its vague whereabouts. His fingers hovered above a chipped brick, hesitating before he tapped it and said, "With each passing moon, I trust him less and less, truth be told. He may have been young when he inherited the crown, but he has grown into a man whose promises seemed to be veiled with ulterior motive." Grimacing, Heero added, "Though the hour was dark, and the Alliance surely would have been lost without a king on the throne, I wish fate might have chosen another."

As he said this, Heero tapped yet another brick in the sewer wall, and all at once, there was a great roar, like stone grinding against stone. But even as the wall began to give way, a section of it swinging open to reveal a hidden shaft that concealed an ascending ladder, Duo could only stand back and stare at Heero with a very curious look on his face. It was partially contemplative, and partially sorrowful, like he sensed something that he was tempted to voice aloud but wasn't sure he ought to. When he finally did speak, he found himself addressing Heero's back as he mounted the first rung of the ladder, his voice slightly parched: "Well," he said, "at least Milliardo is of the proper bloodline. Was his father not brother to the king that reined before the orcs laid waste to Stormwind?"

"It's true," conceded Heero, finally high enough on the ladder to allow Duo the space to begin the climb as well. "But royal lineage a just king does not make," he said, as he reached the top of the shaft, which terminated beneath a wooden trapdoor whose padlocked state was no match for Heero's lockpicking skills.

Duo clung to the ladder just beneath the rung that supported Heero's feet, trying hard not to look down, for he realized a little too late that the ladder was much taller than he'd have liked. "Do you ever wonder if he's still out there?" he wondered at length, trying hard to distract himself from his fear of heights. "The real king – you know, the actual son of the one who came before Milliardo."

Pausing, Heero took a moment to actually ponder such a question. It was something he sometimes wondered, but never long enough to really consider in a serious manner. However, with this talk of how unfit to rule Milliardo seemed to have proven himself to be as of late, it posed a rather interesting postulation. Heero decided – silently, of course – that he liked the notion that there was a more noble ruler lost somewhere in Azeroth; it gave him hope that the future of the Alliance, or even the world as a whole, was not entirely lost. "One day, I will find him," murmured Heero as the padlock clicked open and slipped from its rusted prison, plummeting with sickening speed by Duo's head.

Pushing the trapdoor open, Heero climbed up into the castle vault, Duo scrambling up behind him with due haste, and there they stood in the midst of the Alliance's greatest treasures. Heero had seen this trove before and regarded it as naturally as one might take in any other everyday fixture in life, but Duo couldn't help but stare in awe at the wealth that surrounded him. Great coffers were stacked upon each other, draped with fine silks and weaves; gilt weapons and armour leaned up against them and hung from the walls amongst great shields and polearms. There were shelves of ancient texts and scrolls that left Duo almost absent of the real reason they were there, and many, many other great rarities that he would probably never again see in his lifetime.

While Duo dallied, Heero was already opening a rather innocuous looking chest that shared a table with an oil lamp that shone brightly in the dim light. Sidling next to Heero to see what he was getting into, he peered over his shoulder as the rogue lifted the lid to reveal a number of flasks and phials, all of which no doubt contained obscure potions of varying sorts. Quietly, he lifted each bottle out of the case and examined it until he found the one that he sought, which he then held out to Duo with the simple words, "My promise is met."

Duo was almost too overwhelmed to take it at first, but he quickly mustered the nerve to withdraw the treasure from Heero's outstretched hand, albeit with shaking bones. It was an innocuous flask that had a bulbous, flared base and a long neck, around which was tied a length of twine strung with a faded tag. The words on the label read as thus:

_~ Mighty Elixir of Volatile Life ~_  
_Reagents: Lichbloom, Eternal Fire, Goldclover_  
_Requires: A Princely Sacrifice_  
_Brew well before consumption._

Duo read and reread the tag three times, his brow furrowed in deep contemplation at what the directions required of him. There was only one phial of this potion, and to taint it with the wrong ingredient would render it completely useless. But when it soon dawned upon Duo what the missing substance might be, he found himself at a loss as to how he might ask for it.

Heero watched the myriad of emotions flicker across Duo's face with confusion, unsure as to why Duo would be feeling anything but glee at this moment. Frowning at this unexpected reaction, Heero asked, "Duo, what is wrong?"

Wordlessly, Duo presented Heero with the tag so that he might read it more closely, but the riddle of what 'a princely sacrifice' might be didn't seem to faze Heero as much as it had his undead companion. "We are surrounded by all the princely riches in the world," he said with a shrug of his shoulders. "Surely something here is fit for such a requirement."

Duo only pursed his lips at the suggestion, already certain of what he needed to complete the mixture. He hadn't really wanted to upset the delicate balance of things any more than he had, but for the sake of reviving himself, there was no other way to proceed. "Heero," Duo began tentatively, hoping that his careful choice of words kept his revelation from being too overwhelming; "Do you remember what I mentioned just a moment ago? When I offered the speculation that perhaps the true king of Stormwind might still draw breath?"

All at once, it clicked in Heero's mind where Duo was going with this, and he immediately stood at attention, eager to hear more. "The lost prince?" he queried, his shining eyes betraying his stern lips. "Duo, if he is the one you need to complete that elixir, I will surely venture with you to find him." His heart was pounding manically in his chest, its thrum so loud, he was sure that it would betray their secret entry into the vault. Without a thought, he stepped forward to grab one of Duo's hands, holding the delicate bones in his fleshy hands with a sincere grip: "I will go not only for Stormwind, but for you," he whispered, harpooning Duo with his fathomless stare.

"Heero, I…." Duo faltered, a little too overwhelmed with a sensation akin to the vague memory of emotion. He gripped the neck of the flask tightly in his other hand as his phalanges curled around Heero's knuckles, entwining themselves between his fingers. Straightening, and hoping to meet Heero with as sincere an expression his empty eye sockets would allow, he said simply, "We needn't travel far."

Before Heero had a chance to wonder what had come over Duo, the warlock clarified: "He stands before me," said Duo as he sunk to one knee and drew Heero's suddenly limp hand to his dead lips, the dancing embers in his eye sockets never once leaving Heero's face, even as his voice fell to nary more than a mumble. "You, my prince, the one and only King of Stormwind: I am but your loyal servant," he mouthed against Heero's skin.

No sooner had the words left Duo's lips did his shape blur before Heero's eyes, a parade of nearly repressed memories and forgotten words filling his brain with such relentless vigor that his forehead throbbed violently until his eyes rolled back into his skull and he collapsed to the floor.

TBC!!

I really hope you guys still enjoy this story. Again, I am so sorry it took me a long time to write more.


	22. Pride

**Title: **_**The Forsaken**_

**Author: **Link Worshiper

**Pairings:** 1=2, maybe some others if I feel like it

**Rating: **PG-13

**Stuff:** Fantasy AU, fluff, sap, language, adventure, WoW nerdiness

**Disclaimer:** I own Gundam Wing action figures? Warcraft and its lore belongs to Blizzard Entertainment. Both things are being played with out of fangirl love.

Thanks to danse and Natea for the once over. Despite the fact this is part of Natea's birthday present, I still needed her to fill me in on the Alliance history they don't teach us on Horde, so thanks for that also =P

_Chapter XXII_

_Pride_

King Milliardo Wrynn considered himself one of the greatest kings in human history, and though he would never admit it aloud, thought that the orcish attack that had nearly destroyed Stormwind had actually strengthened it by handing him the crown in the wake of the disaster. His father, the high general of the Alliance's armies, had been the younger of two brothers, the eldest of whom had been the reigning monarch when the maddened orcs had descended upon the city, thus leaving Milliardo next in line to rule when the royal family had been lost. Being raised by a man who valued discipline, strategy and cunning had created nothing less than supreme ambition in Milliardo, and he liked to think that choices he made on his own behalf were no different or less important than choices he made for the good of Stormwind and the rest of the Alliance.

It was because of this mentality that he was deeply troubled by the disappearance of Heero Yuy and the Epyon Sigil. For as long as Heero was missing, the harder it was for him to keep an eye on the only person that could possibly jeopardize his reign, not only because of the power he carried in the stolen relic, but because of the blood that flowed through his veins. His only consolation was that Heero was an obedient sort that didn't question much and was none the wiser that he was actually born to be king of the Alliance.

Brooding on such a topic made Milliardo remember the first time he'd seen Heero since the orc invasion, brought in for an audience with him by one of his advisors. Standing before the very throne upon which Milliardo sat now, Heero was an almost uncanny image of his dead mother; Milliardo had endured the audience on complete edge, panicked that someone else would call Heero's likeness to the former queen to attention. It was with the greatest of relief that he admitted Heero into his secret guild of rogues without incident, glad that he was able to bury the potential problem before it even became an issue. At least, that had been his feeling until Heero had failed to return from his mission to retrieve the sigil from the dirty hands of the Horde. _With any luck, he's been long since killed_, he thought with a rather dark frown; _For the good of the Alliance._

He was jarred from his musing when a herald suddenly entered the rotunda, his face a little twitchy from some unidentifiable nervousness. He was so discomforted that he didn't even wait for Milliardo to grant him permission to speak, instead launching into a rather rambling discourse that would have left the king annoyed has his announcement not been of such a serious nature.

"M-Milord Milliardo Wrynn," he began with a tremble in his voice; "Announcing H-His Highness, T-Trowa Sunbender, Prince of Silverm-moon, and L-Lord of Quel-thalas." He then dropped a most awkward bow and quickly backed away from the dais upon which Milliardo's throne stood to clear the way for the entering guest.

Milliardo rose from the throne, and all the soldiers in the room immediately stood at attention as another pair of footmen appeared in the doorway, flanking none other than the blood elf prince that had been announced moments before. Milliardo was severely discomforted by this unexpected arrival, especially now that he was face to face with one who had shunned the Alliance. He had no idea why Trowa was there or how he had arrived without anyone even noticing, but he kept a cool disposition despite his concerns. "Welcome to Stormwind, good prince," he greeted the elf genially, though he remained locked in his stiff posture. "How might I serve you this day?"

Trowa's posture was lackadaisical as he stroked his pet lion's mane. He wore that smug face that spoke nothing but disdain for Milliardo and his kingdom. "You might find me a chair and something to eat," he said casually. "My journey has been long and my feet, light as they are, still require rest."

Despite his wont to deny this request, Milliardo snapped his fingers and sent a pair of lurking servants scurrying to accommodate Trowa. His displeasure was beginning to show in the shape of his mouth, but he worked to keep himself poised. "Why have you come to Stormwind this day, Prince Sunbender?" he asked directly, knowing that they could dance around with formalities all day and get nowhere.

A dark shadow suddenly cast itself across Trowa's face, though the smirk remained. "Did you think you could steal from me and go unchecked for it?" he asked, taking on a more serious tone.

Milliardo balked, but still managed to smoothly reply, "I am not sure I follow…."

Trowa allowed Milliardo no quarter, snapping impatiently, "A fragment of a dangerous relic was entrusted to me and snatched from my care in the night. Don't think I'm so ignorant that I don't know of your plot to steal that very sigil for your own selfish purposes."

Lifting his hands to show that they were empty, Milliardo said, "You will find no such treasure here."

"I am aware of it," said Trowa with a casual shrug. Before Milliardo had a chance to ask, Trowa intercepted the question: "And I know this because I stumbled upon your plot just as it was starting to come to fruition, taking your wayward rogue thief as my prisoner."

Milliardo's eyes narrowed, unsure how much Trowa actually knew and worried he might be in the midst of some kind of verbal trap. At the same time, it concerned him that Trowa had specifically labeled his captive as a rogue: it would account for Heero's mysterious disappearance, though the fact it had taken him this long to realize such a thing was disconcerting. To be honest, he would have rather heard that Heero was, indeed, dead. That had been his hope from the moment he'd sent Heero out on such a foolhardy quest in the first place.

Quickly clearing his throat to accommodate for his delay in their banter, Milliardo quickly asked, "And what does bringing this to my attention win you, Prince Sunbender?"

"Vengeance," answered Trowa, hardly able to cull the excitement of owning the upper hand. "You found any excuse you could to prolong the exile of my people and turned your back on them, so now I have returned with machinations to make your own schemes crumble under their own weight." He took an ambitious step forward, swinging his arm to the side as his speech grew more impassioned: "I know where the rogue is and what he's done – what you commanded him to do. And if you do not come forward to help the high elves of Azeroth survive, I will betray your intentions to those who would see the Alliance crushed into dust."

Realizing that his ruse of ignorance wasn't fooling the elfin prince, Milliardo sat down on his throne and assumed a strong position of authority as he answered sharply. "Have you come here just to insult me?" he said, not about to let Trowa dictate things in his own court. "Unless you have some kind of proof that such a crime could be attributed to me, I suggest you leave, Trowa Sunbender."

"I think you have more pressing matters to deal with than me," Trowa said, buffing his nails on his tabard before scrutinizing them with narrowed eyes. As he was speaking, one of the rotunda's side doorways burst open to reveal a pair of soldiers that looked as though they had just escaped a skirmish. Glancing over at the interrupting men and then back at Milliardo, Trowa said slyly, "Ah, what lovely timing."

"Y-Your Highness," one of the soldiers panted, leaning heavily on the doorframe for support. "The city has somehow been… been breached."

His concerns spiking to outright alarm, Milliardo curtly demanded to know, "By whom – or _what_?"

The other footman, who was perhaps even more worn than his companion, managed only a single, definitive word: "Orcs."

Whirling a most fearsome glare on Trowa, who was completely unbothered by the whole situation, Milliardo started making some automatic assumptions and then laid into Trowa with his accusations. "This is your idea of negotiating?"

Trowa shrugged again: "You threatened me and my kind in the past; I do not see why it is any different that I do the same to you now."

"That was different. You had allied yourself with _naga_," Milliardo snapped, impatiently tapping his foot as he tried to deal with Trowa and simultaneously figure out how to deal with an assault he knew very little about. He wondered just how many orcs there were and how dire a threat they actually were since the bloodlust they once possessed was a thing of the past.

"We had a common enemy in forest trolls then," Trowa countered, allowing his resentment towards the Alliance to flare for the first time since he'd arrived. "Just as we, the Sin'dorei and the dead you forsook at the hand of the Scourge have the same common enemy as the orcs, trolls and Tauren of the Horde – an enemy we all have found in _you_ and all you represent." A derisive snort escaped Trowa as he glared up at the king he felt was leading Azeroth along the path of ruin: "You had best tread carefully, Milliardo Wrynn, for even those you consider your unquestioning servants may soon turn on you – or perhaps even already have."

A sudden chain of realizations clicked in Miliardo's head as he heard these words. There were too many coincidences that seemed to have occurred all at once, beginning with Trowa's unannounced arrival in Stormwind. That, coupled with the orc that was apparently running amok through the streets and the mention of the previously-thought-dead Heero Yuy caused Milliardo to question what the link between all three things was, but it was only at Trowa's last utterance that he stumbled upon a realization as to what was actually going on.

A diversion.

Without wasting another moment, Milliardo found himself in his element, jumping into action with gusto. Leaping to his feet, he ordered the nearest guards to seize Trowa and hold him and his lion fast, a command that was executed before Trowa even had a chance to react. Trotting down the dais steps and striding right up to the elfin prince, Milliardo grabbed Trowa fiercely by the chin and glared straight into his icy, green eyes. "Heero Yuy is here, isn't he," Milliardo growled as Trowa struggled against the soldiers that held him captive; "Tell me where."

When Heero had suddenly collapsed, Duo quickly squirreled away the flask so that he might rush to the fallen prince's aid. Honestly, he hadn't expected Heero to be so overwhelmed by the revelation that he was actually the orphaned prince of Stormwind and its rightful king, but he supposed he couldn't blame the poor youth nevertheless. He just hoped that telling Heero about it wouldn't prove to be a mistake, even if it was something that had to be done for the sake of returning himself to life. Unable to do much more than slap Heero's cheeks in hopes it would rouse him, Duo hunched over Heero's body and did just that until a low groan emanated from Heero's parted lips.

Coming to, Heero groggily sat up next to Duo, holding his head as he readjusted to his opulent surroundings. It didn't take him long to recall what had happened right before he'd blacked out, but it only gave him a headache when he tried to make sense of it. Frustrated, he turned to Duo, who was squatting next to him with his macabre arms laid over his knees, and tried to clarify, "Were you being truthful when you said that?"

Duo arched his eyebrows, a crooked smile on his torn lips. "Do you mean when I told you that you are a prince in more eyes than just mine?" he teased before answering seriously. "Yes, it's true. Surely you must have suspected that there was a reason behind the uncanny luck that seems to have haunted you all your life."

Heero had no idea how to reply, though he supposed Duo brought up a valid point. He thought back to the night Duo had related his memories of Dalaran to him and how he and his big brother had borne baby Heero from the arms of his dying mother to those of his adoptive mother, Helen. No wonder a mage of the Kirin Tor had been so eager to make sure he was raised properly instead of sending him on to the orphanage as Duo and Solo had been. Frankly, the more he thought about it, and the more he reevaluated some of the finer coincidences in his life, the more he thought himself idiotic for not realizing it sooner. At the end of the day, the most he could think to say about any of it was, "So now what?"

Duo's grin only intensified as he reproduced the flask containing the elixir. It was a dark green colour that absorbed the light that hit the glass bottle, and seemed rather viscous as Duo twirled it between his fingers. "To begin with, you can help me with this," he said, holding it back out to Heero for inspection. "A princely sacrifice – it must be something of yours you willingly give. You know, to breed life within in the drink."

Heero pursed his lips and took the bottle, only to stare at it with empty eyes as he tried to figure out what he could possibly own that would grant such a powerful aspect to a mere potion. He wanted more than anything in the world to help Duo, but there was so much running through his head at the moment, it was hard to focus on the problem at hand. Surely a sacrifice was something grandiose and difficult to part with, he thought as he looked around the vault, which was stacked with all the princely treasures a man could ever want. He had a feeling that the answer wouldn't be found in gold coins or gemstones, though.

"Heero," said Duo, his voice sounding distant to Heero's wandering mind. He reached out his skeletal hand and waved it in front of Heero's aimlessly staring eyes. "My prince, does something ail you?"

Jarring, Heero returned to his body, though a new thought had returned with him, and, just as Duo suspected, it was one that needled at him unrelentingly. Gripping the flask tightly and pulling it against his breast, Heero met Duo's flickering eye sockets with a solemn expression and asked, "Duo, does all of this only matter to you because of who I am? Because you knew I was… a king?"

Duo's jaw unhinged a little, actually a bit stung by the question. He supposed Heero had every right to ask and figured that his doubt was at least reasonable, but that didn't change the fact that the words hurt him. Nevertheless, he knew that his answer for Heero was genuine, and he hoped that offering them to the shell-shocked rogue would be enough to prove his intentions. Curling his hands over his knees, he began: "My love is no lie. I swore my heart to you before I swore my fealty – before I was even old enough to understand what such things even meant. You were my prince before I knew you were royalty, and so you shall remain even when you become king." Unable to resist much longer, he reached out to lay one of his hands atop Heero's, which were still lying protectively across his sternum. "By the Light, I wish we could have lived out our ignorant Dalaran days forever, but the world is a dark and crippling place, and even in the city of magic, we couldn't hope to hide…."

He watched Heero carefully, hoping for some kind of hint as to what the rogue prince was thinking about what he'd said, but Heero's face remained grim, and it greatly disheartened Duo. "What's done is done, Heero," Duo continued to entreat, his fingertips scraping the skin of Heero's knuckles. "But you know, had we stayed the way we were, we would have never found ourselves here and this much closer to one another. It's as though…." Duo trailed off, shaking his head a little and glancing away as a small frown tempted his features. Murmuring now, he said almost too softly to hear, "I had to lose everything just to find you."

"Duo."

At the sound of his name, Duo's attention snapped back to Heero, whose serious stare was now diluted by a softer aura. It was a subtle tweak in the set of his eyebrows and the shape of his lips, but Duo could see the change in his demeanor as clearly as he could night from day. The thrill of it threatened a beat in his heart.

"Duo," Heero repeated, his voice even quieter this time. "Could you… tell me how you died?"

To anyone else, the question might have seemed abrupt or even rude, but Duo knew that it was Heero's way of accepting the things that Duo had said. He wanted to understand what had driven Duo to leave Dalaran that night Lordaeron had fallen to the Lich King, and what had happened to him to bring him to the place where they now huddled.

And so, with a nostalgic disposition, Duo drew back and settled more comfortably on the floor as he began to speak.

TBC!!


	23. The Dragon Wastes

OH SHIT SON!

WHAT TIME IS IT?

IT IS ADVENTURE TIME!

Lol, sorry this took me forever. I was writing, like, a paragraph a day for the past month or so. I had kind of hoped to tell all of Duo's story in one chapter, but then again, I thought the same thing about the Dalaran chapters too. Anyway, sorry for the wait because I've been so busy lately, and I hope you still enjoy the story :)

**bTitle: i**_**The Forsaken/i**_

**Author:/b **Link Worshiper

**bPairings:/b** 1=2, maybe some others if I feel like it

**bRating:/b **PG-13

**bStuff:/b** Fantasy AU, fluff, sap, language, adventure, WoW nerdiness

**bDisclaimer:/b** I own Gundam Wing action figures? Warcraft and its lore belongs to Blizzard Entertainment. Both things are being played with out of fangirl love.

Thanks to danse and Natea for the once over. Despite the fact this is part of Natea's birthday present, I still needed her to fill me in on the Alliance history they don't teach us on Horde, so thanks for that also =P

_Chapter XXIII_

_The Dragon Wastes _

After Duo had met and joined up the Scarlet Onslaught at Southshore that fateful night he'd left Dalaran, he'd embarked with them on a voyage to Northrend almost immediately. This most extreme faction of the Scarlet Crusade had established a settlement called New Hearthglen on the shore of the icy planes of the Dragon Wastes, and it was from this base that they established their aggressive assault against the Lich King right at the gateway of his frozen domain. Unlike their counterparts in Lordaeron, the soldiers of the Onslaught were not content to simply lynch and make examples of the undead that now roamed the land, and were instead driven to outright obliterate the unnaturalness that Treize now commanded across all of Azeroth.

For all this and more, Duo was prepared for. Like many of his new comrades, he was driven by vengeance, enraged that he had lost someone dear to the Scourge. He would destroy Treize with his own bare hands or die trying, even if it meant sacrificing everything that had been good and right in his life thus far.

_iThe Sinner's Folly/i_, the ship that would bear those bound for New Hearthglen, was a large vessel laden with a replenishment of supplies to fuel quite an army. Even just judging by the number of new recruits, of which there seemed to be a good score and a half, it was clear that the Onslaught was growing to be far more than just a small band of extremists.

Without wasting any time, when they were hardly a day into the voyage, the new recruits were brought up on deck to be inducted into the Onslaught officially. As Duo stood there, only half listening to the ship's captain as she delivered an overbearing speech on the horrors of Northrend, he found himself wondering if there would be any further separation of their ranks. Just a cursory glance around at the faces of the new recruits, he saw everything from hardened paladins to mere stable boys that were younger than even Heero, and he knew immediately that a number of them would barely manage to survive the voyage, much less any real combat. He then wondered if there were any mages in New Hearthglen and would he be able to continue his training even so far away from Dalaran.

"…the Holy Light has blessed the High General with the strength to ride against Treize Kushrenada and his undead legions, and so too shall you be blessed!" the captain was saying with no reserve in conviction. "In giving yourself to the Light, you will find within yourselves all that you might need to be victorious! Now, come hence, swear yourself to its Radiance and be saved!"

Duo watched as, one by one, each of the new recruits was called up to the captain, who stood next to a strangely garbed cleric in dark blues and purples. The cleric held out a book for each recruit to touch as he took an oath of admittance, the leather cover of which was inscribed with both the crest of the Light and that of the Scarlets and seemed to shine brightly against his gloved hands. When it was Duo's turn, he stepped forward and laid his hand on the book as the others before him had done and repeated the oath after the cleric as instructed, hesitating only when he was called upon to speak his newly chosen name for himself.

"I… Duo Maxwell, do solemnly swear by the Light and all that is holy to bind my soul and my mind to the cause of the Scarlet Onslaught in its quest to overturn the wickedness that has befouled the dead of Azeroth. My heart and my body belong to no one but the High General, and I forsake all thoughts of all that which might dissuade me from this quest to purge this land of all that seek to destroy it. By this oath shall I solemnly live and honourably die."

The moment the last word had left his mouth, he was brusquely moved aside for the next recruit to utter the same oath over the oddly luminous book. Duo was still too caught up in his rage against the Scourge for killing Solo to spend too much time thinking about the specifics of the oath and the strange cleric, almost immediately forgetting everything he found strange about the affair as he was ferried along to another crew member that was handing out uniform tabards emblazoned with the Scarlet insignia. Upon taking the new clothing, his stomach flip-flopped with an immense surge of excitement that only served to fuel his zeal.

"You seem excited," came a voice from nearby, and Duo looked up to see another newly sworn Scarlet standing in front of him, her regulation tabard flapping in the sea breeze over her arm. She had dirty blond hair that was wound into twin pigtails that spiraled over her shoulders and also danced in the salty air.

Duo turned to face her, resolve written across his young face as he retorted passionately, "You can swear on it. If I can just decimate _ione/i_ legion of those monsters, then it'll have been worth throwing my entire life away."

Laughing, the woman, who seemed to be about five or so years older than Duo, immediately stuck out her hand as though she meant to shake his – a gesture which Duo had never seen any of the Dalaran ladies execute in such an easy fashion before. "I'm Sally," she said, grasping Duo's hand firmly when he finally reached out his own. "My family's from Stratholme, but I was away when Treize razed the place. I've tried a lot of things to get back at that devil since then, but the Scarlets will offer me the means to strike that I otherwise wouldn't have had." She dropped Duo's hand and stood back, folding her arms over her chest as she cocked her head and asked with a motherly smile Duo hadn't seen in a very long time, "So what's your story, lad?"

"Treize killed my brother – dragged him to Northrend when he drafted half of Lordaeron to fight for… whatever it was he wanted up there," Duo answered, unsure why he was telling her even that, and even more so as to why he was elaborating. "Since I was a boy, I've been raised according to the principles of the Kirin Tor, which perpetuates neutrality as core ideal. But after I saw how easily my brother was dragged right out of his home to die for someone else's purpose, I decided that I was through with finding excuses for being idle." Gripping the cloth of his new tabard tightly between his clenched fists, Duo muttered, "I mean, what's the point of having all this sorcery at your command if you can't even use it?"

Sally was still smiling even after Duo had finished speaking, but there was something grim about her features. With a bit more shadow to her tone, she said, "I hear you. I trained to be a priest of the Holy Light, but what good is the power of healing if you shy away from the places where people are wounded, you know?"

Duo nodded solemnly: "I know."

Five days into the voyage, Duo's intensity began to rein itself in, and for the first time, he found himself struck by the consequences of what he'd done. His accommodations aboard _iThe Sinner's Folly/i_ were hardly more than a small compartment that was barely big enough for a single bunk and a porthole. But despite the cramped conditions, when he slept, he still felt as though he were rolling across the vast, snowy wastes of Northrend, alone. Closing his eyes, all he could see was Heero wearing that pensive frown of his, and it was starting to pain him in thinking that he had been the sole cause for its return.

Thus far, he had really only found a friend in Sally, the priestess from Stratholme, and though he hadn't really divulged much more about himself than the basics, he had a feeling she had managed to make a few theorized guesses here and there regarding his past life. She had once called on him when he'd locked himself in his cabin for some forbidden and private thoughts about Heero, and though his alibi of washing was more than sufficient, he couldn't help but wonder if she knew more than she was telling. He supposed he should be thankful that Sally was a more tactful sort: the last thing he needed was for the wrong zealot to find out that he still indulged in such thoughts – much less so that they were engendered by another man.

That wasn't to say he hadn't pieced a few things together about her either. She said she had been away when Treize had decided to eradicate the citizens of Stratholme just as the undead plague was starting to set in, but sometimes she implicated herself as if she'd seen exactly what Treize had done to the place. He wondered just how far away indeed she had been when the tragedy had occurred, for her descriptions of the event still rang with more detail than even some of the official transcripts did. But then again, he supposed, it was silly to speculate if the affair had been a personal matter for her either way: of course it was, since it was unlikely that she would have joined the Onslaught under lesser circumstances.

After a week at sea, the spires of New Hearthglen appeared on the horizon, and it was then that they knew they were nearly upon Northrend. When they landed on the shore and disembarked, Duo couldn't help but be impressed by the scale of the operation that the Onslaught had birthed right at the gates of Treize's icy citadel. New Hearthglen was a massive fortification, complete with bunkers, stables, smithies and all the other makings for self-sufficiency. There was even a great cathedral built to honour the Light and serve as a main base of operations for all that the Onslaught prepared to do in Northrend. Even the Onslaught's sheer manpower was enough to astound the new recruits, for who would have guessed that so many people were willing to take such a headfirst dive into the war against Treize and his undead armies?

All the magic users who had been on board were immediately ferried to the cathedral with both urgency and a sense of preference. Duo wasn't sure what made his services that much more of a necessity than those of a warrior or a paladin, but he was not one to question such things aloud. Along the way, he couldn't help but notice a few more of the strange clerics like the one who had initiated them wandering around the grounds, and he drew Sally's attention to the observation.

"I didn't notice it before, but now that there are so many more, it's strange," she whispered as they were escorted towards the cathedral, their new and unused uniform boots squeaking through the layer of snow as they trudged onwards. "At first glance, I thought they were also priests, but there is something deceptively _idifferent/i_ about their magical aura. I might even say it's darker, somehow."

Duo didn't know much about holy magic or priestly discipline, but hearing Sally's thoughts at least comforted his instincts. However, since Sally was a devout follower of the Light, Duo decided not to share the whole of his speculations on the matter with her, figuring that she wouldn't be as inclined to agree that perhaps dark magic wasn't such a bad thing to see in a priest if it meant the ultimate defeat of Treize and his minions.

"Your training shall continue under the instruction of our own magi, the coordinator of which you will meet now," their escort informed their group as they were ushered into a small room equipped with benches and a pulpit. Duo, Sally and the other magically inclined recruits sat down and were bade to wait amid the icy patches of coloured light that filtered from the lone stained glass window illuminating the room. For the first time since Duo's impulsive flight from Dalaran, he was excited, driven by the general mood of the room and the fact that he was practically inches away from vengeance.

Presently, an old man who could only be the anticipated wizard shuffled into the room. His gray, bowl-cut hair framed his shifty eyes and enormous nose, but also hid the majority of the brutal scars that peeked around his cheeks. There was an air of mystery to him as he stood in front of the pulpit and laughed cryptically as he took stock of the fresh faces before him. Then he grinned and said, "Welcome to New Hearthglen, rookies. You may call me Professor G."

"I know that man," Duo whispered to Sally when she noticed the addled expression that had overcome him at G's introduction.

And know him he did – or, at least, Duo was pretty sure he did, though it was doubtful the recognition would be mutual. G, which was simply an abbreviated alias derived from the name Duo had once associated with him, had once been Solo's tutor. And though that had been ages ago, back when they still lived in Stormwind with their natural parents, Duo had never expected to ever see him again, much less in circumstances such as these. G had most certainly changed from the way Duo remembered him at any rate: he was battle-scarred now, hunched and wizened by the darkness of the times, but Duo was glad to find another potential ally in these frozen wastes.

"Though your initial training will be basic, you will be pitted against the Scourge in a timely manner, for their threat is constant," G was saying when Duo actually started listening again. "Bluntly speaking, such measures will quickly help us separate the men from the boys in as efficient a manner as possible. Survive your first encounter with those monsters, and perhaps – just perhaps – you will have the gumption to survive the rigors of my instruction."

Despite the hidden jibe, the eagerness in the room did not wane in the least, even with Duo, who quickly realized that G had been staring straight at him the entire time.

True to G's word, the new recruits were being briefed for their first encounter before the week was out. New Hearthglen was situated on the shores of a region called Dragonblight, a vast wasteland where the dragons of Azeroth came to die and the Scourge roamed at Treize's behest. Members belonging to the school of necromancy known as the Cult of the Damned also sought to serve Treize by using their dark powers to raise up the corpses of dragons and commonly lurked in the various shrines that existed to serve as a last comfort to the five dragon flights of Azeroth. Today, the Onslaught meant to send its fresh recruits to the Ruby Dragonshrine in order to clamp down on such efforts.

"The main objective is to put down and burn as much of that blasphemous army and its allies as you can. We want to ensure that once they die, they stay dead for good this time," G instructed. "If you find yourself up against a raised dragon, find a priest to shackle it with holy magic so that you might whittle it into submission. I highly suggest keeping _itogether/i _just in case of such an encounter. After all, what good are you to me if you die?" he chuckled wryly, glancing at Duo in a way that sort of discomforted the young mage.

He then dismissed the group into the hands of a seasoned Onslaught sergeant, who was to lead them on a march from New Hearthglen to the Ruby Dragonshrine. Though some of the other recruits were starting to show signs of faintness, Duo was more than excited to get underway. If obliterating the Scourge wasn't enough, the prospect of seeing a real dragon (undead, living or otherwise) certainly was.

The march through Dragonblight wasn't terribly long, but for most of those who were used to the more temperate climates of Lordaeron, the unending freeze was overwhelming. Pressing through a rather romantic flurry that gently wafted across the icy planes gave an ironic and misleading sense of comfort in the midst of that deathly chill – a feeling which was deftly snatched away every time someone dropped out of line because of exhaustion or frostbite. Duo didn't pay much mind, though: he was too busy taking in the grandeur of the scenery, awestricken by the lavender silhouette of an ancient temple that was framed in the distance by the cloudy shapes of the far off Storm Peaks. "_iDragons/i_," he whispered to Sally, unable to mask his wonder. "If I'd have thought I'd get to see a dragon, I might have signed up for this a long time ago."

"You might have come with Treize and ended up dead. Even dragons have their troubles, Scourge or otherwise," Sally countered, her voice flat. The observation was enough to quell Duo quite a bit.

Soon enough, the snowy terrain began to dip into a low ravine, at the end of which all signs of winter immediately vanished. Their company was lead around the edge of the ravine and called to a halt near its edge so that everyone might look over the edge and behold the Ruby Dragonshrine. It sat at the bottom of a low gorge and was like a small bubble of autumn hiding in the midst of the frozen wastes. A huge, fat tree rose from a small mound in the middle of the gorge, its golden-leafed canopy stretching out across green grass and burbling ponds. Even the sight of the behemoth bones that were scattered across the ground didn't mar the scene, leaving Duo to wonder how he'd gone his whole life without ever knowing such a beautiful place existed in Azeroth.

"An elf once guarded this shrine for the red dragonflight, tending it so that it would remain a suitable place for the elders of their race to die in peace," the sergeant informed the recruits once he decided they'd spent enough time gawking. "But reports indicate that a death knight bore his way into the shrine and transformed her into a banshee to serve Treize. We must chase the Scourge away! The dragons are a valuable ally we should hope to win before anyone else does."

There wasn't much else to say after that explanation, and the sergeant's orders were simple. "Charge down there and clean house," he said in a way that almost suggested that he didn't much care what fate befell his troops afterwards. "The rangers and perhaps a few casters can remain up here to support from behind, but we will still require a number of you to draw the devils out of hiding."

And then, with a battlecry that rose up from somewhere amid the company, the melee team ran down into the gorge with a good number of mages and priests following close behind. Those who were spell weavers could immediately feel the thickness of the shrine's magic the first second their feet hit the springy grass, and it served to amplify their power quite a bit. However, the element of surprise was completely nonexistent, for the moment they arrived, they were almost immediately met by a horde of zombies that practically seemed to have been lying in wait for them the entire time.

Duo didn't remember much of the battle except that he was nothing less than a typhoon of destruction. He was too caught up in his revenge, almost mad with anger towards Treize as he burned and seared every undead creature that dared lumber at him. He was like a living ember, in danger of setting everything around him aflame, but careless of whether or not he did so. In fact, it was only his final struggle against a particular monster that managed to bring him back from his violent state, though perhaps not exactly in the most natural or expected of ways.

As he was about to cast a burning fireball at the oncoming ghoul, he noticed something about it that made the magic die in his palm. The lumbering zombie that was baring its clawed hands at him was clad in moth eaten rags that Duo soon realized were the remains of a Lordaeron tabard. There were bits of rusted armor still clinging to the living corpse's form, a testament to what he had been in life. Unable to stop himself, Duo found himself frozen in place as his mind etched the features of his dead brother over that of the approaching monster. _iIt could be Solo/i_, Duo thought fearfully, shaken by the mere prospect. _iAnd if not him, then the brother of someone else! Or a son – a father! /i_

In his moment of weakness, Duo might have fallen to that very creature if it hadn't been for the sudden flash of holy fire that assailed the zombie, obliterating it before it had a chance to sink its talons into Duo's flesh. It didn't take long for Duo to spot his savior, who was none other than Sally, standing not far off with her hand poised to smite the ghoul again should it choose to continue resisting death.

He found it strange that his vision seemed blurred as he tried to meet her eyes through the gently falling snow.

Later, after they had returned to New Hearthglen, Duo and Sally again found themselves sitting in the little room with the stained glass window. G stood at the front of the room, this time lecturing a much smaller group than the one that had left in the morning. Still little shaken by his epiphany on the battlefield, Duo couldn't help but be unnerved by the significant drop in numbers: what if the next Scourge zombie he had to face was someone he had just been sitting beside? He knew allegiances changed all the time, but the involuntary recruitment of Treize's army of undead automatons was different. For all he knew, he'd been killing people he already knew the entire time!

"You will be pleased to note that your efforts managed to push the Scourge away from the dragonshrine… at least for the time being," G was saying, his hands gripping the hem of the dark purple mantle he wore over his white robes. "The very fact that you have survived the battle is enough to prove to me that you are fit to join our numbers, and your training shall begin with the sunrise tomorrow. In the meantime, you will be directed to the barracks, where you may take the evening to settle in and prepare for your rigorous lessons."

With that, he waved a hand to dismiss the debriefing, and an unseen Scarlet appeared in the doorway to escort everyone to their living quarters. Duo was somewhat eager to get going, while Sally took a bit more time collecting herself, as she had been made uneasy by something in G's manner that she couldn't quite label. Unfortunately, G seemed to be waiting for them by the exit, grasping Duo's arm tightly when they were finally ready to take their leave.

"You two in particular show real promise," G said, his gnarly fingers digging into Duo's bicep as if to intone his meaning. "Between the sheer number of Scourge minions that you alone incinerated, boy, and the way _iyou/i_" – here he addressed Sally more directly – "so brilliantly wielded your holy spells to back him up, I think that a more… advanced course is fit for wizards of your caliber."

Both Duo and Sally could only stare at G in confusion. Duo's mouth was half open, ready to wave off anything G had to say, but the old man never let him have the chance, continuing his proposition as if he hadn't even noticed their reaction.

"The High General had a dream that whispered to her certain new magics that the most elite of our numbers should be schooled in," G said, dropping his voice as though he were trying to avoid being overheard. "Upon learning of the dream, our abbot, the High General's most trusted advisor, insisted that it was a prophecy that must immediately be followed up on, and lo, here we are."

Sally seemed a little wary of all that G had said, but Duo's face was crinkled ponderously as he asked, "And where is that, exactly?"

"On the precipice of defeating the dark armies of Treize with a power unlike any other in this world," G replied easily. "And it is made ours by the will of a great and benevolent god."

"Elaborate, if you will," Sally cut in. She wanted to hear something a little less vague, especially considering the fact that G's illustrious words seemed to be enticing Duo in a way she wasn't sure she was entirely comfortable with. It was then that she realized what it was about the old man that made her feel so disquieted, certain that it was the way he had literally just coaxed dozens of untrained volunteers to their deaths without even a shred of guilt. Her face hardened, silently wondering if such actions made G any different from the very enemy they were supposed to be facing in those frozen wastes.

"Surely you have noticed those under this very tutelage around New Hearthglen. Yes, they are priests just like you, but they have been granted the powers of the raven, thus sharpening their holy gifts into deadly curses," G said, addressing her with that grandfatherly tone that made him ever so misleading. It was no wonder that Duo listened so intently to what he had to say, especially considering the unhelpful fact that he already knew G as a wise person to be looked up to.

Crossing her arms, Sally merely said, "I'm not sure that goes hand in hand with the way of the Light."

"But it was the Light that brought the High General this dream!" G returned with a passion that could only come from one who had completely bought into a particular idea. It left Sally unsure if G himself was the proprietor of all that had happened thus far, or if he was just as strung up as the rest of them. Either way, she was going to have a serious discussion with Duo about it later – hopefully.

Unfortunately for Sally, it seemed as though Duo was still desperate to cling to any shred of hope that what he was doing was the right thing. He openly opposed her doubts, saying, "They wouldn't practice it if it weren't for such a good reason." He glanced at G for support: "Right?"

"Right, my boy," said G, loosening his tight grip on Duo's arm to reward him with a pat on the shoulder instead. "And you needn't fear that you will be kept from a similar education, for there is a world of demonology that someone with wizarding skills like yours must certainly explore!"

Duo's eyes widened slightly, the only hint that he still had some reservations about all G had to offer. He seemed to get over it quickly, though. "You mean, like the summoning of magical servants?"

"_iExactly/i_," G answered, the smile twisting his scarred face anything but an improvement. He then said something that changed Duo's life forever, a little push that led Duo down the path he'd been following for so long: "My, you always were a quick study. No wonder it was Solo who needed tutoring and not you!"

The effect was instantaneous: with one sentence, G managed to feed Duo's ego, hit the emotional switch regarding his brother _and_ publicly recall that he remembered Duo from so long ago. In that moment, with the subtle change of a breeze shifting direction, Sally lost her only real ally, while G gained a star protégé.


	24. Reanimation

**Title: **_**The Forsaken**_

**Author: **Link Worshiper

**Pairings:** 1=2, maybe some others if I feel like it

**Rating: **PG-13

**Stuff:** Fantasy AU, fluff, sap, language, adventure, WoW nerdiness

**Disclaimer:** I own Gundam Wing action figures? Warcraft and its lore belongs to Blizzard Entertainment. Both things are being played with out of fangirl love.

Thanks to danse and Natea for the once over. Despite the fact this is part of Natea's birthday present, I still needed her to fill me in on the Alliance history they don't teach us on Horde, so thanks for that also =P

Note: Sorry it took me a while to post this. I've been busy with my new job, plus I'm going to move _and_ I was in the hospital this past week. I hope this is still okay!

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_Part XXIV_

_Reanimation_

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Despite Sally's misgivings about what G had told them, she nevertheless found herself standing at Duo's side for their elite training with G. She had long since decided that there was something out of joint about the Onslaught's operations, and that the only way to truly get to the bottom of it was to move through the ranks as much as possible. She had a feeling that she would learn things for herself while working with G in particular.

Unfortunately for Sally, her plans were slightly foiled by her differences from Duo in magical study. While she was ferried off with a few other choice priests to begin learning about shadow magic, Duo vanished with G for private teachings of another kind. Sally honestly had no idea what sorts of things were in store for Duo until she met up with him later that evening to talk about what was going on. It didn't comfort Sally in the least to see Duo appear with a rather fiery exhilaration in his eyes, a sure sign that her protests against this particular path were going to be left unheard.

Plopping down across from her at one of the tables in the mess hall, he folded his hands on the wooden surface and anxiously tapped his foot against the flagstone floor underneath. "So how was your first week?" he blurted after a few moments of awkward silence, not doing a very good job of masking his eagerness to talk about his own.

"It was… interesting," Sally answered warily, unsure what to tell Duo and what she should leave unsaid. She decided a vague summation was best for the time being: "Mostly, our instructor brought the three of us to a small chapel and lectured us on how there must always be a dark side to even something as pure as the Light. Still… I'm not sure how curses with names like 'Devouring Plague' and 'Shadow Word: Pain' have a place in any of the teachings."

Duo was already armed with a counterstrike to Sally's doubts, a clear ode to how dangerous a brilliant mind could be after it was brainwashed. "Our work is done in the name of the Light, but it is not the Light's work that we do when the task is akin to that which is ours," Duo said smoothly.

Sally wasn't impressed, and responded seriously, "Did you come up with that, or was it something G taught you?"

Offended, Duo retorted, "I can think for myself, you know! I'm just saying that maybe there's a bit of a thesis behind the idea. I mean, you can't just blindly follow teachings and regulations without some kind of curiosity as to whether or not there is more out there, right?"

Although Sally had to admit she could see the logic in this, it still didn't mean she had to like it. She reached out for Duo to grab his hands in a sisterly way, hoping that she still might be able to reason with him. "Duo, I understand what you're going through – trust me, I feel the same way when I think about how badly I want to punish Treize for what he's done. But aren't you just trying to trump one evil with another with studies like these?"

Duo didn't recoil from Sally's touch, but there was a distinct frown on his face. "Is that what you're getting out of _your_ lessons?"

"Frankly, yes," Sally said with a curt nod, her twin spirals of blond hair shivering around her face as she did so. "I feel as though I am being weaned more by the Burning Legion than any practitioner of the Light. Something is sincerely wrong here!"

"You're wrong!" Duo insisted petulantly, a frown very distinct on his round face as he banged the table with the butt of his fist. He leaned over the table so that he might be eye to eye with Sally as he said, "Don't you see? We were _chosen_ for this."

But Sally didn't appear convinced – and neither did the small group of warriors that had suddenly appeared next to their table after hearing Duo's voice rise above the dull clamour of the canteen. There were four of them, each outfitted with Onslaught regalia and arms. Their ringleader bore a special crest on his arm that denoted him as a sergeant, but they were otherwise quite dull and nondescript. Even when the captain started talking, he seemed uninteresting, despite his rather colourful language.

"Chosen to be in the dullwitted classes, you mean," the sergeant interjected, his comrades flanking him on either side with sneers and bobbing heads that nodded at whatever he said. "Back to basics for all of ye, eh? Why _else_ would you have to spend all day with a specialist class trainer? The rest of us are far more self-reliant."

"Shut up: you know even less than _she_ does," Duo spat as he jerked his head in Sally's direction. Without warning, his hands moving fast as lightning, he reached into the depths of his tunic to pull out a small, effervescent crystal, which he held up in a tightly wadded fist: "I will make those words burn in your throat," Duo growled as he crushed the crystal shard in his hand, releasing a small burst of vapor that seemed to waft into the shape of a demon's evil grin.

No sooner had Duo done this did a sudden fireball zip through the air, narrowly missing the sergeant's face. "How in the name of the Light did you…?" he stammered, his words tapering off as another fireball was flung at him. It was only after the second volley that the sergeant realized that the source of the magic was no longer Duo at all, but a devilish little imp that was dancing maniacally on the table as it gleefully threw fireball after fireball at the sergeant as if it were all great sport. If anything, the most Duo was responsible for anymore was sitting back and egging the pint-sized monster on with a series of encouragements and praise for every fireball that nearly sent the sergeant to his doom.

"Not such a dullard _now_, am I, sir?" Duo taunted as his imp threw another flaming attack at the sergeant. By this point, a small ring of curious bystanders had gathered around to watch what they hoped would unfold into an epic duel, and Duo wasn't about to let the attention go unheeded. Leaping up onto the bench he was just sitting on, he shouted to the rest of them, "All of you should stand and be amazed by this great power which now throbs within my chest! With this power, I can massacre all who oppose the men of Azeroth!"

He then threw his head back and laughed in a most unsettling manner, which Sally thought made him look very much unlike himself. She wondered if the people who once knew him in Dalaran would think the same.

"What is the meaning of this!" an authoritative suddenly voice boomed across the room, bringing an unexpected end to the chaos. The sergeant immediately snapped to attention, though Duo only quelled his impudent creature as a gesture of respect as soon as he realized that the voice belonged to none other than the High General of the Scarlet Onslaught. She was a tall woman with brown hair tied into twin buns behind her head and a very grim looking frown decorating her features. She carried a decorated helmet under one arm as she strode purposefully through the room, the crowd of soldiers parting for her like a miraculous tide.

"It was this one, General Une!" the sergeant sputtered, holding a quivering finger out at Duo. "Him and his devilish spawn!"

She swept right by the sergeant as though she hadn't even heard, moving to stand right in front of Duo with a rather ambiguous air to her no-nonsense persona. Duo knew he was probably in for the court-martial of a lifetime, but he'd be damned before he threw himself on the ground to beg forgiveness – even in the face of a superior who ranked as high as General Une. He wouldn't even try to throw the blame back on the sergeant, even though the piddling excuse for an officer had been the one to instigate the whole thing in the first place. Instead, he just crossed his arms and looked General Une straight in the eye as he said: "How might I be of service?"

The only fluctuation in Une's face was in her eyes, which flicked towards Duo's dancing imp for the briefest moment. Then she asked in a concise tone, "That creature belongs to you?"

Immediately, Duo's ego swelled, and he beat his chest as he bragged, "Aye, it most certainly is, m'lady. G taught me how to summon it from the nether to do my bidding."

"I see," said Une, her fixation on the imp not so subtle anymore. "So the dream did speak true," she murmured under her breath, her voice barely loud enough for Duo to make out the words.

There wasn't much time for anyone to speculate what might become of this encounter, for Une was quick to regain control of the situation. Returning her voice to the commanding volume she had kept upon first entering the dining hall, she made an announcement that would forever change the course of Duo's life – and the time after it. "Let your power be a banner to all who would unite under it," she said authoritatively; "I hearby promote you to captain to commend you for a strength so few have thus attained. Sunrise will see you reporting to me for duty, but in the meantime…."

She made a waving motion with one hand, like she wanted Duo to follow her when she abruptly turned on her heal and began marching towards the door, to which Duo could only comply. Catching Sally's eye as he stood, he shot her a proud grin as he stood up, barely even fazed by the fact that the expression she returned to him was one of doubt and concern.

Duo followed Une from the barracks that housed the mess hall across New Hearthglen, walking up to a small, rather out-of-place looking house that served as the general's private quarters. Despite the fact Duo had not been a part of the Onslaught very long, he knew well enough that it was an incredibly rarity and honour to be invited into the general's residence. Especially after hearing some of the rumours that circulated about what went on in private audiences with Une, it was only his confidence in his new magic that reassured he would be able to leave the place as easily as he would enter should something go amiss.

Despite its quaintness, the inside of the house was still incredibly utilitarian, though whether that had to do with the fact that it was military property or just Une's personal taste was hard to tell. General Une definitely had an air of seriousness about her that well overpowered any other, perhaps softer, character traits, a clear indicator as to why she held the rank she did. Doubtful was it that anyone less would have had the guts to reorganize and relocate an entire militia to a new front in the same manner as she had done.

Leading Duo to a plain bench beneath a window overlooking the Onslaught harbour and the sea beyond it, she gestured for him to sit, though she remained standing with her hands folded smartly behind her back as she spoke. "It has been just about a year since we landed on this icy plane, and we hardly have the chinks to show for it," she said, her eyes fixed on the scene outside the window rather than Duo's face. "We spend more time trying to hold off the undead in the service of that banshee queen, Catalonia, now that they've also established a camp in these parts instead of striking at Treize and his mindless slaves. We find ourselves in constant skirmishes that do nothing but waste resources and time, and erstwhile, Treize allows his disease to fester and spread." Here she turned to Duo at long last, suddenly pounding a zealous fist into the palm of her other hand: "It would do us well to eradicate those minions of Lady Catalonia once and for all. With them wiped clean away, we can focus ourselves on our true purpose here in Northrend."

It took Duo a moment to recognize that Une was waiting for him to speak at this interval. Hastily, he said, "Well, that's all very fine, m'lady, but what's it to do with me?"

Une glared at him sharply, almost as though she had expected the reaction of a seasoned warrior instead of a fresh recruit that had barely seen twenty years of life. "It's _everything_ to do with you and that new power you wield. There hasn't been a single person yet to latch onto G's lessons so quickly and so well," she informed him with no uncertain measure. "I need you to take those demon pets you can now conjure and lead an extermination of that pesky Forsaken encampment. They serve no purpose but as a thorn in our side and I would see those blasphemous corpses put down once and for all."

Duo furrowed a brow, his mouth moving before he had a chance to catch himself. "But m'lady, do they not fight to the same end we do? Maybe an alliance is more beneficial than an attack."

Une's eyes flashed in a way that was wholly unhuman. "They are cut of the same mold as Treize and his ghouls," she snapped distastefully. "To ally ourselves with them is to ally ourselves with the very unholiness we seek to crush out of Azeroth. What is next beyond that? An alliance with orcs and trolls?" She scoffed and shook her head as if the very thought of it was vile enough. Then she took a few steps towards Duo and actually sat down beside him on the bench, albeit much more rigidly in posture than he. "Listen, my boy," she said, her voice taking on a kind timber Duo had never heard in her tone before. "You are here because those demons stole from you the happy life all the good people of Azeroth once hoped to keep forever. Do not show weakness when it has finally come time for you to avenge that which you no longer have to hold dear. I ask you to do this as a human of Azeroth more than I do as High General of the Onslaught."

Strangely enough, it was Heero's face that flickered through Duo's thoughts before even that of Solo or Father Maxwell. He briefly wondered how Heero was getting along back in Dalaran, or if he even missed Duo at all. And foolish as it was to ponder on it, Duo wondered furtherer still whether or not Heero was still waiting for him, or if he'd have him back should he return from Northrend victorious. Maybe if he was able to quench his thirst for revenge with this, he would be back in Dalaran before Heero even had a chance to miss him for more than a month or so. He would return with the very lightning of the heavens in his hands – a braver man! – so Heero would certainly forgive him. Truthfully, he knew it was probably vain and selfish to think such things, but the promise of it was enough to rekindle Duo's resolve. He might have lost his family, but there were still people who drew breath counting on Duo to do his best. So, squaring his shoulders, he said to Une in the most direct manner possible, "The sooner we win the day here, the sooner I might be able to return home, right?"

For the first time, a small hint of smile blossomed on the general's lips as she gave him a single, reassuring nod of assent.

"Then I'll do it!" Duo agreed before Une had a chance to fit another plea in. "My command of demonology will become so great, even the mightiest dreadlords of the Burning Legion will bow to me."

The boast was ridiculous – even foolhardy – but it seemed to be exactly what Une wanted to hear. Pressing her hands together, she said, "Most excellent, Captain…."

"Maxwell," Duo supplied for her. "Duo Maxwell."

"Right, Captain Maxwell," she repeated passively as she then stood up and walked towards the nearby hearth, which was alight with a happy fire. "Come here, then, and let me give you a symbol of your new rank."

She was reaching into the fire with an ornamented poker she had retrieved from the mantelpiece when Duo came to stand beside her, respectfully waiting for her to finish before he said anything else. However, there was no need to, for without warning, Une suddenly reached up to grab Duo by the elbow and jerked him down to her level. He barely even had time to register the general's intent scant moments later, when she yanked the hot poker out of the fire to press the heated end of it against Duo's flesh. Duo screamed in pain as the searing metal burned the skin at the top of his forearm, branding him with the Scarlet crest the end of the implement had been wrought to resemble. Yet despite the unbearable torture of it, Duo couldn't bring himself to look away, which was probably for the best, as the gleeful look on Une's face might have given a lesser man more than enough reason to desert. But when she was finished, there was a part of Duo that was actually drawn to the somewhat bloody, pulped flesh, and he thought to himself that despite the unexpectedness of it all, such a mark was far superior to any badge.

With that thought in mind, he met General Une's eyes with a new resolve as he said with no shortage of determination: "When can we start discussing stratagems?"

* * *

The end of the week saw Duo briefing his seconds-in-command for the attack on the Forsaken he meant to carry out within the day. One of these was a very reluctant Sally Po, whom Duo had chosen out of good faith, and the other, the sergeant whose taunts had brought Duo to this fortune – though it was safe to say that Duo's selection of the latter had more to do with rubbing salt in the wound as opposed to offering some kind of olive branch.

"We take no prisoners. Victory is our only option," Duo was saying over a map he'd spread out across the table they all stood around. There were a slew of extraneous parchments outlining the movements in the Forsaken camp in the past week, and even a few stolen documents that detailed some of their future actions.

"Don't you think we are being a bit rash with such an assault?" Sally cautioned not for the first time. She couldn't quite put a finger on Duo's motivations anymore, though she had a feeling that whatever they were, they had become incredibly perverted through some trickery of the Onslaught superiors.

"It's not for us to decide," Duo waved her off, his attention fixated on the map lying in front of him. "Our job is to obey orders. The sooner we jump on it, the sooner we can be through with it."

Sally sighed, knowing it was pointless to try and argue the point any further. Still, she couldn't shake the sinking feeling she had that this was a terrible idea. Duo probably would scoff at the suggestion that her woman's intuition was the main reason she wanted him to reconsider, but it was the best summation she had for wanting to back out.

"Anyway, as I was saying before," Duo continued once he felt that Sally had finished trying to counter him, "I think our best course of action will be to raze the place to the ground. Enough fire is sure to burn those corpses beyond even undeath. If we keep a few extra men to deal with stragglers, I think we should be more than equipped to make short work of all this."

"You certainly are eager to be through with this," the sergeant said bluntly, his real opinions about the whole thing rather hard to discern.

"I am not one for idling about," Duo answered with a touch of sarcasm on his tongue. "Venomspite will fall today – even if I have to literally tear it down on top of those monsters with my bare hands." He clenched his fist, that unsettling fire burning in his eyes as he spoke. He sharply turned to the sergeant and added snappily, "Is our squad ready to move out yet?"

"Within the hour," was the sergeant's obligatory answer, the actuality of it completely irrelevant.

Truth be told, Duo wouldn't have accepted anything less in his current frame of mind, and to be told that there would be a delay of any kind would most likely have sent him into a volatile rage. After he had been rewarded for solving his problems with his newfound black magic, Duo had been apt to reach into the nether for a demon to settle any of his disputes since, and the rest of the Onslaught had been quick to learn that he held no distinction between the Scourge or an ally when he got to such a state. Better to walk on eggshells than to risk Duo's incredible power backfiring on them.

"Excellent," Duo said with a jovial flare that was incredibly misleading considering the fears everyone harboured towards his demonology. "We'll assemble in the bailey and begin our march immediately!"

With that, he swept out of the room with a swirl of cloak and robes to leave Sally and the sergeant to with the trouble of making everything happen, while he went to make his own preparations. He'd been gifted with a real horse of his own by General Une as part of his promotion to captain, which did nothing to keep Duo's rationality in check, and he was excited to be able to lead his men and his demons to battle in the saddle. The thought alone was enough to make him practically glide across the snow as he made his way towards the stables.

His horse was a huge, grey warhorse with a white tail and mane he called Scythehoof. He'd been pleased to find that he could outfit the horse with black tack and armour, which he thought would make him look even more imposing when they rode on Venomspite, and he giggled with a sick kind of glee as he began preparing Scythehoof for their dark ride. Just as he was fitting the saddle over the horse's back, however, he stopped, suddenly aware that he was no longer alone in the stable. "Who's there?" he demanded to know, keeping absolutely still as he continued to listen for any more signs of intrustion.

"At ease, my boy," came a creaky old voice that Duo immediately recognized as G's. "I only meant to speak with you before your first real campaign."

Though Duo had visibly relaxed after he'd realized there was no one there to threaten him, he was still a little wary as to why G was there in the first place. Slowly turning around, he said, "Do you mean to wish me luck? I hardly think I'll need it if that's the case: you've taught me well."

A tired smile pulled at the corners of G's mouth, though his response was somewhat ambiguous in nature. "And yet you still ride to your end," he said, folding his hands behind his back. "Your suicide will be valiant, but still suicide nonetheless."

Duo's blue eyes smoldered with irritation that even his teacher seemed to hold such little faith in him. "You boasted of my powers, and now that you have exactly what you wanted – a warlock in a position of power in the Onslaught – you want to doubt those claims," Duo hissed in an accusatory tone. He angrily jerked one of the straps on the saddle to fasten it in place, causing Scythehoof to toss his head and whiny with discomfort.

Any hint of mirth vanished from G's expression as he said in no uncertain terms, "I never expected for them to exploit such power in such a foolhardy way, my boy. I truly thought they had more righteous intentions, but the General has been driven mad by the sway of her advisors. I think they mean to tear the Onslaught apart from within, and…."

"You show your age, old man," Duo spat, not at all won over. "If I thought for one second that they were using me, I would have used my power to kill everyone here – including myself." He turned to face G head on, a hand on each hip as he said with every confidence, "No, I ride into battle as the God of Death – as Yogg-Saron himself! I will bring peace to the dead who walk the earth and shame the living of Azeroth."

G actually looked a little forlorn at the outcome of this discussion, shaking his head and saying merely, "I see I cannot dissuade you then."

"Not a whit," Duo said, turning back to Scythehoof so that he might finish outfitting the horse for battle. "I'd be the God of Death any day. It's better than being the hero of a massacre at any rate."

He spoke only to Scythehoof, though, for by the time he'd finished murmuring those words to himself, G had long since vanished from the stables, leaving Duo very much alone.

* * *

Duo rode to the bailey as soon as he'd finished saddling Scythehoof, pleased to see two columns of Scarlet warriors, mages and priests all waiting for his command. With an eager spur, he galloped to the head of the legion, where Sally and the sergeant both waited on horseback so that he could salute his soldiers and impart a final word to them before they set out.

"Today, we crush not only the blasphemous undead, but those who serve our eternal enemy, the Horde! That bitch banshee queen, Catalonia, will pay for stealing a restful sleep from those who were once our kinsmen, and when this front is ours, so will be the glory seen when the Lich King falls to his knees before us!" Duo railed, riding back and forth before the front lines, a banner of the Scarlet Onslaught fluttering behind him from the pike he carried. "We will sail home for Lordaeron as heroes, the unsung, selfless ones who sacrificed everything to purify the land of Azeroth once and for all! We shall see who laughs when it is we – the shunned, the deterred Scarlet Crusade – that finally brings peace back to this world!" Turning Scythehoof towards the main gate, he lifted his pike so that a fiercer wind might pick up the banner as he gave his final rally and began summoning his dark minions to his side with a flourish of his unoccupied hand: "May the Light bless our actions this day and those that follow, for we are its righteous harbingers – the saviours of Azeroth!"

And with that, he let out a wild battle cry that infected his infantry and even the throats of his soulless demons, which now stood around him like a legion of their own. Spurring Scythehoof once more, he sent the warhorse into a fierce gallop towards the main gate, his demonic army wafting at his heels in a cloud of dark energy. Behind that came Sally and the sergeant, who led the Scarlet legions after them, thundering across the short plane that separated New Hearthglen from Venomspite's doorstep.

It was hard to say whether or not the Forsaken undead of Venomspite knew Duo and his men were coming or if they were just very good at rallying their defenses on the fly. It was also hard to say if they had perhaps planted the so-called information that had so easily fallen into Duo's lap and had been half the basis for the Scarlet plan of attack. Either way, as Venomspite grew more prominent through the trees that surrounded its little knoll, it was clear that there was a very sturdy line flanking the perimeter, equipped with even a few of the strange, poison-flinging war machines that they seemed so apt to drag into battle.

Not that it stopped Duo from charging for even half a second.

Wit the exception of their fearless leader, the Scarlets clashed into the Forsaken lines like a heavy ogre hefting itself against a wall, while Duo broke right through the defenders like a knife through butter. Duo swung his fiery magic around him, the blazes a whirling tornado that ripped through Venomspite and tore the way open for his demonic minions to pillage and raze. Duo followed behind them, laughing at the destruction they left in their wake, ignorant of how the rest of his men were faring, or even that Sally and her fellow priests were having trouble keeping their heals consistent, their clerical powers greatly diminished by their new shadow studies. The Forsaken had the advantage of being in their own territory, and were far better equipped with resources and backup troops than the Scarlets had ever anticipated them to be. It was also unhelpful that any harm that befell the Forsaken went unheeded, for their flesh had long since died, and another wound or missing limb was hardly more than an inconvenience.

It wouldn't be too long before the tide would greatly turn against the Scarlets if they continued in this fashion, and Sally was quick to realize it, even if Duo seemed to think otherwise. She was certain that Duo had befallen some kind of madness with his introduction to demonology, and she worried that he was no longer a fit to oversee the lives of the soldiers under his banner. With that thought in mind, Sally decided it was time to take matters into her own hands, knowing that there was no shame in retreat if it meant that they could all live to fight another day. So, reaching for the war horn she carried at her hip, she blew into it with all of her might, its rolling voice carrying across the battle and drawing the attention of her comrades. "Fall back! Retreat!" she cried at the top of her lungs, turning her horse back towards New Hearthglen. "The day is lost! Fall back, I say!"

The other Scarlets certainly seemed to be of a similar mind to Sally, and they did not waste much time in heeding her command, even though she was hardly the highest authority on the battlefield. As they started to flee the scene, Sally did linger briefly to see if Duo was going to follow, a little dismayed to that he didn't even seem to realize what was going on around him. He was still gleefully tearing through Venomspite, and though he was causing more trouble than most of the other Scarlets had managed to do as a unit, it was doubtful he could keep it up forever. A part of her felt vaguely guilty, knowing that because of her order, the Forsaken that had been paying attention to the main platoon would now turn their attentions towards silencing Duo. But the life of one man – even one that was a good friend – hardly equaled that of two entire squads, and sacrificing them so that Duo might prolong his inevitable end was hardly justifiable as far as her morals were concerned. And much as it hurt to turn her back on Duo, she knew that she would have to lest she endanger herself by loitering that much longer. With a heavy heart, she raised her hand and imparted a farewell spell on Duo – a short-lived shield that would protect him for just a few more moments – and then turned to ride after the retreating Scarlets. Quietly, she murmured her goodbye, praying that the wind might carry it to Duo's ears before he met his doom.

Duo's demons were doing a fairly good job of aiding their master in combat, but after some time, they seemed to be growing _bored_ of such repetition. The proof of this came at a turning point in the battle, when Duo was starting to grow a little weary due to his depleted mana well, and thus commanded his demons to gather around him for protection. But instead of obeying the direct order, the demons carried on as they were, content to kill whatever attacked them not so much because it was what Duo wanted, but rather just because it was a chaotic thing to do. Duo tried once more, a bit more desperately this time, to rally his minions to his side, but was met with the same response – one that the Forsaken seemed to have picked up on as they started to close in around Duo now that his weakness was more than evident. "My slaves, to me, to me!" Duo cried a third time, his madness giving way to panic for the first time since he had acquired his new powers. Scythehoof turned skittishly in circles, unsure where his balking rider was trying to lead him as the Forsaken began to tighten their noose, closing in with weapons and teeth barred.

Duo remembered nothing that happened right after that, for it was then that that he was unhorsed and Forsaken cut into him, leaping upon him with their blades with grim ruthlessness. The blade of a dagger caught in the corner of his mouth, ripping upwards through his cheek with a mist of blood, while the killing blow landed upon his chest by way of an axe, which left a deep gash right next to his slowing heart.

The blackness that surrounded him faded into a ghostly plane as he bled out, revealing the afterlife to be a haunted existence where ghosts roamed the world unseen by the likes of men. Hovering above his corpse as Forsaken continued to maul it, and still a bit jarred by the unexpectedness of such an out of body experience, Duo wondered if he was somehow being cursed for his actions in life – doomed to an ironic existence of unpeaceful slumber despite the salvation of the walking dead for which he had crusaded so zealously.

Struck with an onset of despair and loneliness, Duo's spirit didn't have the heart to oversee the fate of his corpse, and began to drift aimlessly in a random direction as he lamented all that had brought him to this end. He wondered if he would be able to stray back to Lordaeron like this, hoping he might at least get to check up on Heero and see that he was alright. He'd heard of ways to connect with the spiritworld from the realm of the living, and though his knowledge of such things was little more than gossip and rumour, he proceeded to torture himself with trying to discern a way to at least commune with Heero what had happened to him in the snowy wastelands of Northrend – to at least apologize for being so pigheaded and stupid. Heero's young life was already addled with a lot of grief and heartache, and had he not already been dead, it would have killed him to think he was simply adding to it.

Still, Fate had not finished toying with Duo, for no sooner had he resigned himself to his aimless afterlife was he yanked away from it with jarring haste. The sensation reminded him of being suddenly roused from a dream he'd been falling through: there was a rushed feeling, as though he were being hurriedly crammed into a small space with a blindfold over his eyes, only to have light poured back into his irises with unexpected and unwelcome haste. His new sight was somewhat hazy, a familiar, earthly reality that bore a tint seemingly of the ghostly vision he'd just glimpsed moments before. It was then that he became aware that he had regained a corporal form, although to exactly what end, he wasn't sure, since he couldn't exactly say that he was able to really _feel_ again.

Vaguely, he registered the fact that he could also hear in a more ordinary sense than the haunted whisperings of the dead that drifted through the afterlife. To his near left, he heard a ragged voice whispering, "Did it work?"

"I think so. It looks like his soul is settling at any rate," whispered another equally brittle voice, this one coming from his right. "Look, his fingers are twitching!"

A chorus of rather disconcerting cackles filled the air, and for the first time, Duo became aware that he was lying on a makeshift examination table that stood in the middle of a tiny room full of undead. Their dirty, moth-eaten rags were widespread, ranging from the remnants of mage robes to rusted armour and weaponry. Craning his neck to look around (much to the glee of the makeshift audience that surrounded him), Duo realized that the room was equipped to be some kind of laboratory of the arcane, filled with field equipment and ritual candles alike. And though he could hazard a guess as to where he was, he couldn't help but ask the obvious question anyway: "Where am I?"

"Venomspite," someone volunteered from amid the spectators.

Daring to try and sit up, Duo touched his forehead gingerly, running his finger around the shape of his face until he reached the gash in his cheek, which, though still a bit putrid and bloody, had been haphazardly stitched together with a series of leather chords. He remembered flashes of what had just happened, but he was having a hard time piecing them together coherently, so he threw out another question. "I thought I… died?" he ventured uncertainly.

"You did," said someone else, which was met with more ironic laughter. "Aren't you glad our necromancers got to you before those of the Lich King?"

It was then that everything clicked for Duo, and the sheer horror of its reality was almost too much to allow him to react as one might expect him to. With a rather numbed tone, he stammered, "S-So I'm… Forsaken, now?"

The laughter continued, bursting out with a spike of increased volume at Duo's reaction. Another helpful yet snide remark came from the gaggle of undead: "As if we would allow a powerful warlock such as yourself to become a slave of the enemy!"

The comment didn't do much to console Duo, and he could only fling his forehead into his hands with despair. "I am a slave either way!" he bemoaned, clearly distraught. "All I have fought for has been for naught!"

"All that was in your life is behind you now. Abandon all that came before and create a new existence from the ashes of the one you lost," came another voice that cut through the commotion with an authority that actually managed to silence the others. Duo peered through the yellowed flesh of his fingers to see a deathly pale undead elf cut through the crowd, walking straight towards him. She was tall and had long, long blond hair that practically glowed white in her decrepit state, though she somehow still seemed to retain a certain beauty she must have possessed in life. Her leather armour, cape, and the bow and quiver she wore on her back suggested that she was a ranger, an observation that led Duo to quickly surmise that this must be none other than Lady Dorothy Catalonia, the banshee queen of the Forsaken undead.

However, despite the regality of her appearance, Lady Catalonia's entreaty didn't exactly win Duo over. "If I was to die, I would have rather stayed dead! Now I will have to agonize over my failings for all eternity!"

Lady Catalonia merely stared down her still-perfect nose at Duo, an unimpressed frown on her ashen lips. "Is that not the fate of all who die? Ghosts wander Azeroth looking for resolutions they can never have, but we—" She gestured to all the other Forsaken in the room: "_We_ have been granted an uncanny gift by the most unlikely of benefactors. With a body to bind your shrieking soul to, and a will of your own to carry with it, _you_ actually can strike back at all that scorned you in life. _You_ can make them suffer as you have suffered!"

Gritting his teeth, Duo glared down at his hands, which he had balled up into tight fists. His mind was racing, filled with memories of everything that had ever happening in his life to chip away at his soul, and it wasn't long before he realized that he was a creature fueled by an insatiable and long-lived rage that had always been kindled inside of him. But now, that anger burned like an unstoppable wildfire, consuming him with each additional thought that passed through his head. There was no good in the world, he decided: anything that had ever been worth having was cruelly ripped out of his hands far too quickly to justify his existence as ever having been worthwhile. No longer would he settle for allowing things to continue as they had been. The universe was black and horror-ridden, but he found that it was amongst the shadows where he now sought to belong.

Surely, then Lady Catalonia was right in labeling his current circumstance as a true gift. With all the necromancy and witchcraft the Forsaken practiced, he would surely be able to continue his studies in demonology to an extent he would have never been able to otherwise. Even if it was to be the last thing he ever did, he would find a way to wrest life back into his veins so that he might be able to stand by Heero and protect him as he had sworn to in life. Even if he had to smother Yogg-Saron himself and wear the mantle of the death god in his stead, by Elune and the Light and everything holy, he would do it!

And so, it was in that moment of resolve that Duo Maxwell was put to rest that night, and Duo Blackscythe was born into a life of the dead.

* * *

TBC!


	25. The King Is Dead

**Title: **_**The Forsaken**_

**Author: **Link Worshiper

**Pairings:** 1=2, maybe some others if I feel like it

**Rating: **PG-13

**Stuff:** Fantasy AU, fluff, sap, language, adventure, WoW nerdiness

**Disclaimer:** I own Gundam Wing action figures? Warcraft and its lore belongs to Blizzard Entertainment. Both things are being played with out of fangirl love.

Thanks to danse and Natea for the once over. Despite the fact this is part of Natea's birthday present, I still needed her to fill me in on the Alliance history they don't teach us on Horde, so thanks for that also =P

NOTE: SOME SHIT GOES DOWN IN THIS CHAPTER: JUST KEEP READING, EVEN IF YOU'RE LIKE OH NO SHE DIDN'T. PROMISE.

Also, I am sorry this took me about a thousand years to finish D:

* * *

_Part XXIV_

_The King Is Dead_

_

* * *

_

Concluding his tale, Duo sat back and watched Heero carefully, hoping to catch the first glimmer of a reaction in him. He knew that he hardly deserved any sympathy for his rashness, but he at least hoped that Heero would be understanding of his plight. "I was young and reckless," he said disparagingly. "I had clouds in my eyes – couldn't see two feet in front of my face!"

Heero clutched the potion bottle tightly, frowning at it pointedly as he gathered his thoughts. Toying idly with the tag clinging to the flask's neck, he wanted to say that if it had been _Duo_ that had been killed the way Solo had been, he might have been driven to the same madness. And yet, he was still painfully aware of the hole in his chest, which had grown so large and worn since Duo had left, that even his reappearance wasn't quite enough to fill it entirely. He wished he had a way to explain the contradiction to Duo, but words were never his strong suit, and this was something he had a feeling even the most eloquent of speakers would have trouble expressing.

Duo, troubled by Heero's silence, prodded, "Hey, Heero… are you… okay? Please tell me you're not deterred by my story." He clutched at his robes and pulled at the fabric anxiously.

Heero's eyes drifted away from Duo's face, focusing on a nearby mirror as if he meant to see for himself the expression that concerned Duo so, but found he couldn't even discern his own reflection in the polished surface. "It's… not that," he said slowly, somehow at least able to find the ability to respond with his eyes preoccupied thusly. In fact, he was rather surprised by how loose his tongue suddenly became when he didn't have to directly worry about Duo's scrutiny. "Do you remember that girl, Relena? The one who once told me she loved me?" Heero rambled, a little unsure what incited such a memory. "She told me those things and all I could think of was how wrong it felt. She wanted me to be something I wasn't and I… I maybe wanted _you_ to be something you didn't want to be either…."

"Don't be ridiculous!" Duo interrupted, his hand suddenly shooting through the space between them so that he might grasp Heero's wrist, an effort to try and tug the melancholic rogue back to him. "Yes, it was a gut feeling that led me astray, but it was also a gut feeling that made me want to fly right back to you. I only ever wanted to be _yours_. By Elune, maybe I wanted that even a bit too much."

His gaze now drawn to Duo's skeletal grip around his forearm, Heero tried to think of what to say next, certain he would sound idiotic in any case. He almost wished he hadn't tried to explain now that he thought about it, sure that Duo would laugh at him if he kept it up. Tightening his hold on the flask, Heero pressed his fingertips into its angular edges, barely wincing as the sharp contours cut into his skin: "Don't… pretend," he managed to grind out with an air that sounded like he was trying hard to settle his confused emotions. "It was your… _duty_ to stay… at my side."

Duo's other hand quickly flew to Heero's face, grabbing his chin so that he might forcibly turn Heero's eyes towards his own. "Don't you dare think like that, Heero Yuy," Duo reproached, the glow in his eyes taking on a particularly fiery candor. "You know I was never one to do anything because I _had_ to."

Though Heero wanted to believe Duo, knowing that it would make growing and moving on together that much easier, there was a part of him that was still hesitant to forsake that last ounce of trust. His hand tighter than ever around the flask, Heero took out his stress on the bottle, pressing his thumb so severely against the glass corker that its decorative head snapped off with a tingling shatter. No longer impeded by the bottle's decorative headdress, Heero's thumb swiped across the jagged remnants of the stopper, flaying his skin with a deep wound that immediately started to seep blood.

Immediately aware that something had happened, Duo glanced down at Heero's new injury and the blood that had now coated the top of the potion bottle. Snatching Heero's hand so that he might inspect it closer, Duo made a small growling noise in the back of his throat as he sighed, "I can't believe you, Heero. You're mad, you know?"

Heero was inclined to agree, but only privately.

"Let me see that, you damned fool," Duo was saying as he snatched up Heero's hand, which was still limply clutching the blood-smeared flask. He was too caught up in trying to clot the wound with a scrap of fabric torn from his sleeve that he didn't even notice the way the blood seeping around the damaged corker and into the bottle was mingling with the potion inside, changing it from its former dark green hue to that of a happy amber. "Carelessness like this will be your untimely doom," Duo was chiding as he relieved Heero of the flask and set it aside so that he might tighten the cloth around Heero's hand better. With a familiar dash of his usual swagger, Duo then added, "I swear, it's a miracle you lasted so long without me!"

A small smile traced Heero's lips as he examined Duo's handiwork and the way his zombie hands held the bandaged appendage with such delicacy. It made him wonder how he ever thought that the Forsaken were nothing more than enemies that needed to be rubbed out, for surely each and every one of them had someone they'd hold just as tenderly if they could. Was the world really in such a sorry state that it was completely defined by half-truths? Even in the shortness of their recent adventure to Stormwind, Heero had learned how much of a difference there was between what was said and what was meant – between how things were and how things seemed.

Softly, secretly, he murmured, "I miss your blue eyes."

The moment, fragile as the glass top that had shattered across Heero's hand, was quickly crushed as the clatter of chain mail and armaments filled the air. The thick walls of the castle vault that surrounded them dulled the noise, but it was evident that it wouldn't be long before any hope of escape was expunged if they lingered for too long.

"Damn the luck!" Duo growled, dropping Heero's hand to glare venomously at the trapdoor they had clambered in through, unsure if they should risk trying to outrun the oncoming danger in the sewers or remain and hold their ground where they were.

They didn't get the time to make a proper decision, for the echoes of splashing and squelching were rising up from the sewers below, suggesting that there was already a company waiting to meet them at the bottom of the trapdoor ladder should they try that route. Discomfort and panic was clearly starting to set in on Duo, who was looking around for any hopes of liberation or even discrepancy, although it wasn't to much avail. "By the Light, what are we going to do?" he fretted, snatching up the flask they had traveled so far to retrieve to squirrel it away inside his robes for later inspection.

But Heero was alert, his roguish instincts automatically kicking in the moment the danger had become evident. "Quiet," he commanded, frowning pointedly at their only means of escape. With his acute senses, he could hear almost everything that was happening at the bottom of the ladder, slightly reassured by the fact that things seemed vaguely chaotic. However, above all that commotion, he found himself zeroing in on two vaguely familiar voices that he was sure he had heard before. "Listen," he added, glancing briefly at Duo, hoping he might be able to help him figure out what they were dealing with. Knowing what they were facing would be the difference between life and death in this situation, Heero was certain.

"Unless they've managed to slip away again, that's where they are," said the first recognizable voice, its tone contemptuous and spiteful. "Now, release me, you cur!"

"Traitor!" hissed the second familiar speaker with equal vehemence.

"Silence! Both of you!" snapped a third with an air of authority. "I'd have you jailed immediately now that you've served your purposes if it wasn't going to be even more amusing to have you watch the demise of your loathsome comrades. How sad to think you came all this way for nothing…."

"The Sin'dorei will never forgive you for this, Milliardo Wrynn!" the first speaker shouted. His words confirmed Heero's suspicion that it was Trowa who protested his current predicament – whatever _that_ might be. But more importantly, he was surprised that King Milliardo seemed to be amongst the company lurking in those stinking waterways. He supposed it made sense considering that the king was one of the few who could gain access to the city's treasures, but he had never recognized Milliardo to be the sort to settle his own accounts in such a hands-on method. It made Heero's doubts to Milliardo's current mental health all the more sound.

"Nor will the orcs of Durotar," growled the second, indicating Wufei as the other prisoner, another rather shocking development. Heero hadn't thought for five seconds that Wufei would allow himself to be captured by anyone ever again, but it seemed that the Light had a funny way of exercising its benevolence: the whole lot of them seemed to be at fortune's mercy more often than not, he noted with a hint of cynicism.

"Heero: what are we going to _do_?" Duo repeated after a few moments of solid silence. Normally, he'd have just flown by the seat of his pants in a situation like this, but there were too many factors involved, and for once, Duo saw that such harried action in such a case would probably unfold into something very akin to the incident that had killed him. If only he had the same sense for level headed decisions that Heero did when it came to facing down a threat, he might be able to somehow find some kind of sync with him when they leapt into action.

"Someone hold down that orc!" came Milliardo's voice, wafting above the commotion below the trapdoor; "His thrashing is soiling my cloak with this fetid water." The rattle of chains and the growls of a very belligerent Wufei ensued, delaying the inevitable cornering of Heero and Duo, but not by much.

Meanwhile, Heero had been pensively tapping his hip pouch, where the demonic sigil lurked, practically singing to him with reminders of how it had helped them out of some very precarious situations in the past. He was hesitant to just automatically rely on it, though, recalling that he had very little recollection of the last incident involving the artifact – save, of course, Duo's incredible concern regarding the whole matter. He glanced briefly at the undead warlock, perhaps looking for some kind of visual cue regarding his rather subtle indication as to what he was thinking, but found that the only notice he was getting was from Asahi, who was hesitantly watching him from inside Duo's cloak. Idly, he wondered if the insect was capable of an opinion, and if so, exactly what it was.

"Stand aside! It's time to catch a thief or two," Milliardo shouted from down below, an indication that a decision needed to be made in the next few seconds, regardless of what it was. There was a clatter that could be matched with the mounting of the trapdoor's ladder, and Heero gripped his pouch with driven ambition as he made his final choice.

"Flee," he ordered Duo. "We shall lose them in the sewers far easier than we could defend ourselves here."

With that reasoning in place, he leapt to his feet and bolted towards the open trapdoor, dropping through the black square with nary a thought for the ladder. Duo scrambled for the edge just as Heero's hair plummeted out of sight, immediately concerned that he'd have broken his legs after such a fall. He was only given a moment of relief when he was satisfied that Heero had made it to the bottom intact, for the very next thing he was aware of was that Milliardo was halfway up the ladder and glaring straight at him with hate in his icy blue eyes. "_You_," the human king spat up at Duo; "You are the one who turned my greatest weapon into a filthy traitor!"

Duo didn't even stop to think before aping Heero's lead. He jumped down with no fear for death or injury, his passing gaze catching Milliardo's long enough to exchange looks of hatred before he hit the bottom with a splash of sewage water and grime. All of the Alliance soldiers around him were staring, unsure if they should forsake their current prisoners for the sake of capturing a new one, but Duo didn't dally long enough for them to decide. With an apologetic shrug at Trowa and Wufei, Duo turned tail and dashed off in the direction Heero had gone, hoping that he might eventually catch up with the elusive rogue.

"Someone catch them!" bellowed Milliardo from somewhere behind them, his voice echoing throughout the entire sewer system. "Heads will roll until I have theirs safely on a pike by the main gates!"

Duo hurried onwards, almost overshooting Heero, who was lurking in a shadowy tunnel if it hadn't been for the harsh whisper that called his name from the darkness. "This way," Heero beckoned, waving for Duo to follow him down the dank corridor.

Their feet splashed through the sewage, a nervous echo that might easily betray their location with one misstep. Duo wasn't sure where Heero was leading him, but he trusted the rogue enough to believe in his ability to navigate Stormwind's underbelly. Still, he couldn't shake the unease that seemed to be stalking them, almost as though Milliardo had somehow managed to conceal himself in the shadows that tugged at their feet.

As they turned a corner, Duo suddenly became aware that Heero was slowing down ahead of him. Coming to a halt beside the rogue, Duo stared ahead at the vast grating that stood between them and the rest of the tunnel. Heero was staring as well, his lips twitching as he tried to explain the obstacle he clearly hadn't expected to be in his way. "It was different before," he murmured, his fists clenched at his sides. "You could get back to the canals this way…."

Placing a reassuring hand on Heero's shoulder, Duo opened his mouth to tell him that it wasn't such a big deal, that they'd find another route, but the faint splashing of their pursuers suggested otherwise. So instead, his bony fingers clenching sharply into Heero's tunic, he said, "I suppose Fate has deigned us to take a last stand, whether it was to be in the vault, or here in the guts of this damned city."

Heero clenched his teeth, knowing that he would probably have to fall back on the cursed sigil for certain if they were to face Milliardo and a legion of his men. With Trowa and Wufei in the custody of Stormwind, it was very unlikely that they would be able to come to their aid, a realization that made Heero feel even more cornered than before. He hated having his back against the wall, even with an ace in the hole like the demon sigil, and it drove his very senses mad that he would have come so close to fulfilling his end of the bargain to Duo only to ultimately fail in the end.

_If only I was stronger…._ _If only I could…._

The strengthening connection Heero shared with the demon inside the sigil resonated with the thought as it passed through his head. Without Heero even realizing it, the relic had begun to glow inside his hip pouch, almost as though the demon was itching to release itself and lend Heero the power he wished for. Its urgency seemed to increase as the approach of the Alliance ruler and his soldiers became more imminent, his blood boiling in his veins and his heart pounding with an anticipation for bloodshed that was alien to his usually ambivalent manner.

"Thieves and traitors! Do not think for a moment you can betray me and get away with it! You are mine!" came Milliardo's familiar zeal, its proximity just around the corner Heero and Duo had turned mere moments before. Scant seconds later, the king whirled around the corner with a flourish of long, white gold hair and navy cloak, his sword drawn and his teeth bared as he charged them without even a moment to stop and breathe.

No sooner had Milliardo leapt at them did a sudden blaze of fiery light burst forth from Heero's person, his eyes aglow and a wild roar rising from his throat. An almost delicate shattering sound boomed far louder than it ought to have from the depths of Heero's purse as the sigil shot out from its confines and exploded in a burst of gold and silver particles. In a fraction of the time than previously, Heero's body twisted into that of the demon, far more grotesque and warped than ever before. The horns that rose from his skull were larger and his face bore less of a resemblance to its usual countenance. His hands were more like claws and his feet more like hooves, the massive wings that rose from his back powerful appendages that could have flown him across oceans without tire should he wish it. Now an ifrit large enough to fill almost the whole diameter of the tunnel, and one fueled by enough rage to slay an entire army, Heero met Milliardo's onslaught with equal vigor and vehemence.

Duo only had the presence of mind to hang back and stare in both awe and fear at the scene unfolding before him, too absorbed in what he was seeing to even take note of the infantrymen that were just rounding the corner after their king, both Trowa and Wufei in tow. Fortunately, all of them were so equally shocked by the unexpected skirmish they found when they did so, none of them had the ability to even _think_ of overpowering Duo. Even Trowa and Wufei were momentarily shocked enough to miss taking advantage of the stupefied soldiers to escape.

The lapse was quickly snatched away when the dangerous reality of the situation finally set in. Heero grabbed Milliardo by the throat and squeezed tightly when the monarch tried to have at him, but that didn't stop Milliardo from exacting a number of deep stab wounds upon him nevertheless. Then Heero tossed Milliardo aside, flinging him against the wall in an effort to stun him. The effort proved ineffective, however, for Milliardo was well armoured and survived the attack with only a few fresh dents on one pauldron. Rising to his feet, sword still drawn, Milliardo wasted no time in charging at Heero again, his bitterness at Heero's betrayal more than enough to fuel him onwards. "I always knew there was something off about you, Yuy," Milliardo ground out through gnashed teeth as his blade embedded itself into the flesh of Heero's forearm. He tugged at it to pull it free of its bloody prison, leaving behind a gushing wound that revealed an ivory hint of the bones buried within. "Now you've revealed yourself as the monster you've been harbouring inside yourself all this time!"

Milliardo's taunts echoed around Heero's pointed ears like mere gibberish. His every move was based on primal instinct, which was heightened a thousand fold by his fusion with the Epyon demon. When Milliardo swung at him with his sword, Heero blocked nearly every blow without a single thought for the wounds he was incurring by such a reckless defense. He knew only that Milliardo was the enemy and that he needed to be crushed – and all he needed was the perfect moment to lash out.

That moment came soon enough, when Heero got the chance to grab Milliardo by the throat, his grip mere notches away from being enough to crush the king's trachea. Of course, since Milliardo was a fit, stubborn and resolute man, his power doubled by his maddened zeal, such a simple maneuver was harder than just that: the heavy toes of Milliardo's armoured boots flew repeatedly into Heero's stomach as the king struggled against his captor, his flailing hands still armed with both sword and shield. There was even a point Milliardo, the great Ghost Wolf King, reduced himself to sinking his teeth into Heero's hand, hardly above even the dirtiest tricks in the book if it meant victory. And when that didn't work, he resorted to his secondary plan, barking an order at his still-trembling soldiers: "Well, what are you just standing there for? Come and _help_ me, fools!"

None of the soldiers seemed exactly sure what they would do, despite the fact there was no mistaking the clarity of Milliardo's command. Though their duty was to protect the city and their king, none of them had exactly envisioned that they'd lose their lives by futilely flinging themselves at an overpowered demon ravaging the sewers. The ones that were restraining Trowa and Wufei tightened their holds on the prisoners, mumbling half-heard excuses about keeping them in check.

It was unfortunate that even such sound reason meant absolutely nothing to Milliardo. As Heero's grip became dangerously tighter, he roared, "Never_mind_ them and draw your weapons, idiots!"

The end of Milliardo's sentence was drowned out by another wild roar from Heero, which was more than enough to help inform the decisions of the guards. Without even a care for the consequences, all of them – even the ones that were supposed to be keeping an eye on Trowa and Wufei – all dropped their lances and swords into the dirty sludge ebbing around their feet and took off running in the opposite direction. Milliardo's enraged cry of "_COWARDS!"_ reverberated throughout the vaulted, subterranean labyrinth, but not one of them could find it within themselves to sacrifice themselves for a cause that wasn't their own. Some might have called it fainthearted to run away, but in truth, it was the far more tactful choice.

It took both Trowa and Wufei a few moments to realize that they were no longer outnumbered by Alliance footmen, and even when they did, neither was quite sure what they ought to do themselves. Heero seemed more than capable of handling Milliardo, and Duo was still watching the fight with a blank, entranced expression on his rotted face that made the pair of them wonder if he was even mentally present at the moment. It was almost as if he were paralyzed by fear, too paranoid to disrupt lest he do something that would inadvertently favour Milliardo, yet worried that abandoning Heero there might be resigning Heero to a dark fate should the fight take some kind of unexpected twist. His skeletal hand twitched, the only hint that he was suppressing the urge to lash out at Milliardo.

"We should lend our powers to Heero," Wufei grunted, pounding one red fist into the other. He was always eager to throw himself into the fray, even though he had been disarmed when taken into custody. "He is not the only one who would like to have a hand in slaying that damned Milliardo Wrynn."

Trowa merely frowned, offering no opinion on the matter right away. His hesitance to jump into the fray had very little to do with the fact that Heavypaw had been taken away from him when his own arrest had been made, but more so because he felt the battle belonged to Heero and Heero alone. He even felt somewhat compelled to suggest an exeunt, for he had an inkling that even though Heero seemed to have gone berserk, something inside that demonic form was holding back his full power because of their proximity to the fight.

But it wasn't Trowa's silence that stalled any further debate. Rather, it was the sudden upward thrust Milliardo made with his sword, somehow managing to sneak his blade beneath the circle of Heero's burly arms and straight through his upper torso. There was barely time for shock to contort Heero's impish face, even as a mouthful of blood spurted through his parted lips and splattered across Milliardo's cheek, before the sight caused Duo's stupor to suddenly switch off: the moment Milliardo's soiled blade had emerged through Heero's back, the hand that had been quivering at Duo's side impulsively flew into the casting ritual that called forth a wave of fire great enough to send Milliardo flying into the nearest wall. A bone-splintering _crack_ echoed as Milliardo's skull was fatally crushed in upon impact, his spirit released from its corporal prison before the body had even completely slumped down into the sewage.

No one paid Milliardo's demise much more notice than that, the group of them far more distracted by the severity of the wound in Heero's chest. Duo had run to where Heero lay in the muddy grime, barely able to do much more than breathe. The sword was still lodged through his body, and even the most cursory inspection made it clear that trying to remove it would end Heero's life even more prematurely. No one said anything, unsure if words would even get through to Heero in his transformed state. Most of what they thought to say sounded too trite and idiotic to actually voice out loud anyway.

At length, Wufei said in a rather plain tone, "Even moving him might speed his doom."

"Even if it would help, I'm not sure we could," Trowa murmured back, that same frown still in place as he worried Quatre's owl charm discreetly behind his folded arms. He was staring at a blank section in the wall, just a little short of the carnage Milliardo's untimely death had left in the slimy bricking. "I'm still not sure the demonic influence tolerates us any more than it did Milliardo…."

Wufei let out a small grunt like he might agree with Trowa's comment, but Duo still remained silent, holding his folded knees close to his chest as he quietly watched Heero struggle with each subsequent breath. It didn't really matter to him if Heero realized that he was there or not – just that he was, even if he couldn't really do anything useful to help reverse the situation.

"Well," said Wufei, figuring that no one else was going to do anything if he didn't keep perpetuating things, "at least this resolves the issue with the Epyon demon. We shall report to Thrall that the threat has been neutralized."

Duo's head snapped up at the insensitive comment, fire dancing in his soulless eyes as a dangerously angry scowl crossed his flesh-eaten face. He didn't have to say a thing to communicate his displeasure at Wufei's lackadaisical feelings towards Heero's rapidly approaching death, but he did anyway: "You would be dead if it weren't for Heero, you ungrateful piece of shit," Duo hissed, his raspy voice taking on a dark tone that seemed to freeze the very breath it floated on.

Even Trowa seemed a bit disdainful of such a remark, his green eyes sliding towards Wufei with a look of contempt, though not much else about his stature shifted. "Even Alliance scum deserves respect for a noble death," he commented as his hand tightened around the charm he hid against his breast. His thoughts suddenly became overwhelmed with a concern quite unlike he'd ever known before as he worried about how he was going to tell Quatre that his childhood friend had passed on. He wondered if it would change anything – how Quatre might react to such news, or if he'd be upset that he wouldn't have been able to help it. The thought brought a suggestion to mind, and he quickly excused himself to try and find a private niche where he might summon Quatre's image without interruption from the likes of Wufei.

Wufei watched Trowa wordlessly turn on his heel and vanish into the shadows, taking the action as some kind of subtle hint. He glanced back at Duo, who hadn't moved from his place beside Heero's twisted, bloody shape, a pang of empathy suddenly taking hold of him as he looked on. "At least have your memories," he said in his gruff way. "I may be just an old soldier to you, but I… I know how you feel." With that, he followed Trowa's example and disappeared in another direction, unsure of exactly where he was planning to go. It was as if his purpose had evaporated as easily as the Epyon sigil had.

Duo barely noticed the departure of his other two companions, his eyes barely even able to focus on anything around him. He blandly announced to no one in particular, "What do they know what it's like to have a graveyard as a friend? Because that's how they always end up." He turned his head to look at Heero again, one hand slowly reaching out to brush some of Heero's ragged hair from his sweaty face. "Don't suppose I'll ever have a… friend like you again…."

As he pushed the dirty lock of hair behind one of Heero's ears, he realized that Heero was watching him with half-lidded eyes that no longer bore the yellowy tint they had when he'd first transformed. Rather, they held the familiar, oceanic blue that Duo had grown so fond of – a blue that was more comforting than any other hue he had ever seen.

"I'm… I'm sorry, Duo," came a strained mumble from Heero, though it clearly pained him to try and talk. His weakening stamina seemed to mirror the demon's control over him, his voice very much the timbre Duo was used to hearing. Even the extremity of the demonic features Heero had borne just moments ago seemed to be ebbing away, though it was probably a result of the fact that there was less and less life energy for the demon to feed off of.

"Stop wasting your strength, idiot," Duo scolded with a weak smile. He reached out to try and gently pull Heero's head into his lap, wishing his dead flesh could perceive the sensation of Heero's warmth against him. "You held up _your_ end of the bargain, while I…."

He trailed off, too ashamed to even admit that he had completely failed Heero, who had done everything in his power to help him. He clenched the hand that wasn't lost in Heero's tangled hair and pounded it against the dirty sludge. "I never meant to betray you like this!" he finally burst out, the frustration too much to bear, especially with eyes that couldn't even shed tears. "When I said I'd exorcise the demon, I intended for you to… to _live_!"

Heero's body was almost entirely back to normal, though he still wore fangs in his weak smile and claws on his fingers; tattooed runes of black magic still marked his dirty skin. His clothes had been destroyed when the demon's flame had consumed him, so he lay in the blood stained water almost entirely naked and shivering. When he looked up, his vision was tinted with cloud and the tint of blood, but he could just make out Duo's face. "Did you… drink the potion?" he stammered weakly, his poor vision casting the illusion that Duo's features were young and handsome as they had been in life. He continued, even though Duo kept insisting he shouldn't waste his energy with idle speech: "I'm glad, you know... Glad I got to… see you… again…."

He was straining now, and Duo could see the pain it caused him to even breathe, much less speak, but he made no effort to try and silence Heero anymore. He pulled Heero's head closer to his torso and bent over, wrapping both arms around him as he mumbled with near incoherence, "Me too, buddy. Me too."

Duo huddled their broken forms together, his face buried against the cook of Heero's neck so he wouldn't have to witness the moment Heero drew his last breath. Duo's hands shook as a slight tremor rocketed down Heero's spine and a tiny gasp that puffed up against Duo's ear: he was suddenly aware that Heero had wrapped his arms around his waist before falling limply against him. Still refusing to look, even if just to confirm that the end had truly come, he missed the cause of Heero's brief convulsion on Death's doorstep, which was a tiny sphere of dark, demonic energy that had escaped through Heero's parted lips and rocketed off into the depths of the tunnel once its host had lost his life. Instead, Duo merely held Heero's corpse close and rocked it back and forth, like a child wishing a doll could speak back.

While Duo despaired, his familiar friend, Asahi, who had been hiding inside Duo's body during the chaos of the fight, came creeping out to investigate what was wrong now that things weren't so dangerous. He skittered down Duo's arm and across Heero's ashen face, his antennae dancing investigatively across it. The little creature seemed confused as to why Heero wasn't moving, running back and forth in frenetic circles as he tried to puzzle out the reason for it, or perhaps for an answer from the unresponsive Duo. The insect's actions went largely unnoticed by the sullen warlock, who retained his scrunched up position throughout Asahi's entire reappearance. It wasn't until the cockroach gave up on trying to win Duo's attention and had started to crawl back into the depths of Duo's robes that Duo was struck with an epiphany dazzling enough to jerk him into an upright position.

Suddenly aflame with new hope, Duo started digging through his robes, starting with the large, moth eaten hole that Asahi had just clambered through. After a few moments of frantic searching, he straightened again, triumphantly holding the potion bottle he and Heero had journeyed so arduously to attain. It was still coated with a streak of Heero's dried blood, where he'd cut himself on the glass before, but its changed, amber colour still shone through with the golden light of the blazing Azerothean sun. "He sacrificed so much for me," Duo murmured as he tore the broken stopper out of the bottle and cast it aside, the small bobble landing with a _plunk_ in the grimy water. "It's only fair I make a sacrifice for him!"

And without another thought about it, Duo lifted Heero's head with one hand and poured the life-giving potion over his cold lips.

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TBC


	26. The Lost Art of Keeping A Secret

SORRY THIS TOOK A HUNDRED YEARS LIFE HATES ME OMFG D:

**Title: **_**The Forsaken**_

**Author: **Link Worshiper

**Pairings:** 1=2, maybe some others if I feel like it

**Rating: **PG-13

**Stuff:** Fantasy AU, fluff, sap, language, adventure, WoW nerdiness

**Disclaimer:** I own Gundam Wing action figures? Warcraft and its lore belongs to Blizzard Entertainment. Both things are being played with out of fangirl love.

Thanks to Noir Faerie for the once over. Despite the fact this is part of Natea's birthday present, I still needed her to fill me in on the Alliance history they don't teach us on Horde, so thanks for that also =P

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_Part XXVI_

_The Lost Art of Keeping A Secret_

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As the potion dribbled down Heero's chin and through his parted lips without a single hint that it was working, Duo started to worry that the demon had somehow managed to sunder Heero's soul when the sigil had shattered during the battle. That didn't stop him from administering the potion: in fact, he only tilted the ampoule at a greater angle so that the golden liquid would pour more quickly, his focus on only one end. There was so much he still had to show Heero, so much he had to say….

Still, when the last drop of the potion fell from the glass bottle and splashed against Heero's chin with no change in Heero's status – not even a little twitch of eyebrow or flutter of eyelash – Duo felt a burning sensation in the pit of his chest he wasn't sure how to identify, since he hadn't experienced a visceral feeling in a very, very long time. But as Duo clutched Heero's corpse against his chest, careless of the blood that was seeping into his clothing or the clumsy sword that was still embedded in Heero's side, he knew that his heart was breaking.

"Hate this place," Duo ground out between gnashed teeth, overwhelmed by defeat and despair. It frustrated him to think that even the very potion they had traveled so far to retrieve wasn't even worth the copper it cost to forge its container, and that in the end, Heero had died for nothing. If anything, the most he had succeeded in doing, he noted with a sense of ill-placed cynicism, was dethrone the false king of Stormwind.

Unbeknownst to Duo, however, the pain in his chest brought a pinprick of wetness to the corner of one of his eye sockets, a sole tear that had overcome Duo's dead flesh to materialize his sadness. It rolled over his torn cheek and ran down one of the leather stitches holding the skin together, dripping from the tip of his chin and plummeting through the space between his face and Heero's. Landing on Heero's brow with a shimmer of blue light that very much resembled that which had enveloped the pair of them in the Dark Iron mines, it seemed to act as some kind of blessing that resonated with the amber potion still damp on Heero's lips.

A shudder ran through the length of Heero's corpse, causing Duo to sharply draw back as bewilderment replaced his loathing. "Maybe not such a waste after all?" Duo murmured as he blinked down at Heero's body, which was alight with shimmering globules of both gold and bright blue. He had since figured out that Heero's royal blood had been the 'princely sacrifice' required to give the potion its power, but he could tell there was another, far more ancient magic at work on Heero's body, for he was healing at a rate too rapid for any man-made drink to conceive.

So fast, in fact, that he quickly realized that if he didn't try and pull the sword out of Heero while he was still technically dead, he might have wasted a perfectly good miracle. Quickly, Duo grabbed the bloody hilt of the blade and tried to jerk it free, but the magic seemed to have made the steel brittle, and it snapped at the wound. In a last ditch effort, Duo quickly turned Heero's body over and tried to pull the rest of the blade out through his back, careless of how the sharpened edges cut into even his body fingers. The brittleness that had consumed the other half of the sword seemed to be reaching the end of it as well, making it hard for Duo to tug it out. He managed to get most of it before the effect was complete and it snapped in a similar fashion, leaving only a small section of the murderous steel lodged inside Heero's body.

It was no matter, though, for the potion's magic was quickly healing up the wound. It had already sewn together the gash in Heero's front side and was now knitting new flesh over the small chunk of steel that remained inside the fallen rogue. The bruises and cuts that Heero had earned during the fight were healing naturally, his body growing more and more like that of one who was merely asleep. It was then that Heero's body gave another sudden jerk in Duo's arms, a gasp of air suddenly filling his lungs, his eyelids snapping open as he rocketed back from the land of the dead with just as much of a startle as the one that had overcome Duo at his sudden revival.

Struggling to sit up with a little help from Duo, Heero blinked wearily at the dimly lit sewer, trying hard to remember how he had come to be there. He blearily turned his confused gaze towards Duo for help, pointedly studying his still-rotting features as he tried to ascertain what wasn't quite right about it. The last concrete memory Heero had was in the treasure vault, which abruptly reminded him that they had finally attained the potion Duo had requested in exchange for exorcising that damn Epyon demon. Pushing their situation aside for a moment, he wondered aloud with his usual blunt candor: "Well? Didn't it work?"

A soft, almost sad look overcame Duo's face at the question, and he turned his head away, unsure how to explain what had happened. Though he didn't regret for a second what he had chosen to do with the potion, he knew that Heero would be displeased when he found out. Mumbling, he answered, "Most surely."

"Not well enough, it seems," Heero frowned, his eyes catching sight of the bony forearm that still served as one of Duo's limbs. He crossed his arms and furrowed his brow in thought, idly mentioning Quatre's alchemic talents and the prudence in taking a journey to Theramore to utilize them as soon as possible.

"I don't deserve your efforts," said Duo, focusing on a random stone in the wall behind Heero's head. His voice was sullen, almost uncharacteristically flat. "I think the demon has left you, but not at any turn of _my_ hand. Perhaps it's best if we just… leave things as they are – as they were obviously meant to be."

Heero was confused by Duo's sudden defeat, remembering only the confident warlock that had so gleefully led the king of Stormwind on a merry chase through the sewers. After seeing the facedown corpse that lay shrouded in its royal blue cloak, there was no need to ask what the outcome of that encounter had been, though he was still at a loss for what exactly had transpired during that final duel. His eyes drawn to the way the gently ebbing sewer water tugged at Milliardo's long hair, Heero voiced his conundrum: "I don't believe that you would have gone this far only to give up _now_," he said with his usual directness; "You make it seem as though it would almost be better if all of this had never even happened."

"Impossible!" Duo exclaimed, slapping the muddy water with enough force to send a wave of it over both of them, the unexpected splash drawing Heero's attention back towards Duo. The moment their eyes met, it was as if all the colour of the world drained away into nothingness, leaving them alone in a realm that existed only for them. Heero held his breath, knowing simply from the intense glow in Duo's soul-lit eyes that what he said was most sincere.

"If we hadn't stumbled upon each other again that night in Silverpine, I'd have withered away with sadness after a time," Duo began, his voice taking on an uncertain warble. "I do not believe that was an accident of any kind, however – that we came to this place together because we were _meant_ to. But in doing so… I…." Duo trailed off as he hung his head a bit, the gravity of what he wanted to say a bit too overwhelming to just spit out in one breath. At length, he finally managed, though: "Well, we're here, Milliardo Wrynn is dead, and your life will never be the same because of my own selfishness. I almost lost you once to my selfishness before, and here, I very nearly did it again."

There was a brief pause as Duo internally debated how much he ought to explain before he went on, his voice slowing down as the weight of what he said began to tax him. He quietly sought Heero's hands, hoping to find some sort of strength in holding them as he finished what he wanted to say: "But as we are sitting here, just you and me, like this… it makes me wonder if this is Fate's way of reiterating the punishment she outlined for me on that day I left you. I thought I could trick her, but in the end, I'm still the fool – still _dead_ – and she's got the last laugh."

Through this entire monologue, Heero had stared at Duo quixotically, the flummoxed quirk in his brow the only indicator that he was unsure what Duo was trying to say in so many words. When it seemed like Duo had finished and Heero still wasn't any more educated on the situation than he had been at the start, he could only blink and purse his lips.

"Don't you see, Heero?" Duo said with a dejected sigh, "All I ever do is make a mess of things." Pointedly, he shot a glance at Milliardo's corpse, who seemed destined for a most unroyal resting place.

Growing uncomfortable in the grimy water, Heero took the opportunity to stand up and wipe some of the slime off his tunic and leggings as he announced in a rather matter-of-fact tone, "If you believe that, then you must also believe that Fate has chosen this course for a reason." He had nothing else to say on the issue, especially since any further discussion would just make them loiter even longer. He wasn't quite sure why, but there was something about this particular place that crawled under his skin and made him shudder with unease.

Duo remained sitting in the murky water, his dead body unaffected by neither its chill nor its fetor. His robes and cloak lapped around his still form much like the swathes wrapped around Milliardo, whose eternal silence echoed Duo's own. The creaking lanterns that swung overhead traced patterns across the water and over Duo's ragged self, teasing him with a light that only burned his vision.

With a sigh, Heero sloshed over to Duo's side to lay a careful hand on his shoulder. He meant to be comforting, but his tone was serious as he said, "Of course it's overwhelming, but what else can we do?" He grasped the hood of Duo's ratty cloak and gave it a tug like he meant to pull Duo's to his feet and drag him along.

With unexpected passion, Duo suddenly jerked into an upright position, tilting his chin so that he might look up at Heero, who had leapt back in surprise. "We should just forget all of it and pretend like we never came at all!" he exclaimed, kicking at the water in another spasm of frustration. "It's pointless to keep trying. I've obviously missed my chance with you."

"Or we could just… start over," Heero said with a nonchalant shrug, finding the solution rather obvious. He personally wasn't very bothered by any of the things that they had since endured, even though there had been moments that were more emotionally taxing than he'd been prepared for. "Maybe Fate had particular designs for me as well," he suggested, squatting down to Duo's level again. "I doubt my eyes would have been opened as they have been with any other course, and I…." His cheeks burned, and though he was overwhelmed with the urge to just ignore the thought that had just manifested, it was hard to do when it was fuelled by an emotion so strong. He satisfied his nerves by squinting his eyes shut as he blurted, "I remembered how much I wanted to be with you."

Heero had clamped his eyelids so tightly down that his temples were throbbing, the pressure only subsiding when he realized that there was a bony quintet of fingertips pressing against his cheek. He carefully cracked his vision open again to see Duo leaning close, almost as though he was trying to see something he'd lost at the bottom of a deep pool. It filled him with feelings he thought he'd abandoned long ago, pushing a very revealing thing to the fore as he leaned closer to Duo.

"Even death means nothing…" he mumbled as his breath clouded over Duo's torn mouth. He knew what he wanted to do if only Duo would let him. Maybe it would be strange if he did anyway. The worry drove his brain to demand a more careful consideration of such things, even though his intention was but a small affair. And yet, instead, he only tilted his head to the side and parted his lips, just barely grazing Duo's icy ones.

The touch of their mouths brushing against one another was a chaste moment, but it somehow seemed like the most passionate, fiery exchange they had ever shared. Duo's flesh was cold and chapped where it was whole, moistened only by caress of Heero's tongue. He wished he could feel Heero's breath clouding over his face or the touch of his skin, that their closeness could be more than a mere gesture of growing affection.

"There's no hope for me, is there?" he wondered aloud when they parted. "To be dead and penniless and hung up on a prince – a _king_, even."

"I'm no king," Heero deadpanned, not at all excited by the notion. Where some people, perhaps like Milliardo, might have seen promise in power and riches, Heero saw only a tiresome duty and confinement. He was used to his life as a vagabond rogue, only ever loosely tied to anything besides his own morals and whims. To be king of Stormwind – king of the entire _Alliance_ – meant that he would have to adhere to more than just his own desires, the foremost of which was crouched beside him and far from welcome in a place such as Stormwind.

He refused to accept it, or even to believe it, a feeling which he personified by standing up again, this time jerking Duo to his feet after him. He started down the tunnel, dragging Duo by the wrist as he growled, "We shall leave before anyone is the wiser that Wrynn is dead, or that we were even here. We'll sail for Theramore and have Quatre work out a brew that will put breath in your lungs now that we have the recipe."

"But Heero, if you don't take up the crown, who will?" Duo protested as he stumbled along, tripping over his robes as Heero's steps quickened.

"I don't know. Someone," Heero answered without even looking back over his shoulder at Duo. "They did it before, and they can do it again. The Alliance will endure just as it has in the past without any help from _me_."

"You are dooming your kingdom," Duo rasped, a vaguely warning lilt in his tone.

Suddenly, Heero stopped so that he might send a very sharp glare back at Duo. "For an ally of the Horde, you certainly are adamant about this," he said with a scowl.

"If not you, then you doom this world to an eternity of fighting until both Horde _and_ Alliance manage to obliterate one another," Duo answered just as stridently, attempting to drive his point home by prying Heero's fingers from around his wrist and throwing his hand away, hoping he could somehow make Heero realize how important his ascension was. "_You_ see the pointlessness of the rivalry between our two factions. With someone like you on the throne, perhaps the words of Relena Proudmoore and Thrall will finally be more than a fantastic ideal."

"But that's what that nonsense _is_: a stupid ideal," Heero hissed. "Trivialities and pretty talk that would never survive the complicated politics of Stormwind."

His hands hanging limply at his sides, Duo shook his head and drooped, as he was wont to do whenever he was feeling defeated. Despondently, he wondered aloud, "Then what about _us_?"

"I…." Heero faltered, his argument suddenly gridlocked as Duo's words began to penetrate his stubborn hesitance. Just over Duo's shoulder, he could still see the outline of Milliardo's corpse, which was being examined by a hungry rat that had been lurking in the shadows, and he thought of how long it would take for the decay to set in. He wondered what he was really waiting for in his life: if not this chance to birth a new era, then what? If he had been able to doubt the state of things, who was to say that there weren't others like him? Maybe Duo was right….

Tearing his eyes from Milliardo's corpse, he cast his eyes down at his boots, though his ability to focus on them was obscured by the warbled reflection of his own face that played across the murky water around his ankles. There was something changed in his face since the last time he'd really looked, though he couldn't quite determine what it was. He felt like such an oddity.

But after a time, he seemed to come to a realization lost somewhere in his face, and he murmured it to his reflection. "I think I might just be scared," he said, a little embarrassed to be admitting it. "To change my ways, to learn what this world is really about…. These are days I never expected to fall."

Again, he felt Duo's cold, bony fingers wrap themselves around his wrist, and though they were a bit moldered with grime, it was the most comforting thing he could have asked for at that moment. "You don't have to worry about any of that," Duo assured him with a confident swagger that made him seem like he could take on the world if he wanted to. He squeezed Heero's hand gently, adding, "Because I'll be with you."

At last, Heero looked up, relieved to find that Duo was still smiling at him – a smile that not even the decay of death could stifle.

It made him feel so safe.

* * *

Lost elsewhere in the twisting corridors of the Stormwind sewers was Trowa, sulking in a fetid niche as he spun the owl charm's cord around his fingers with an agitation he couldn't quite discern. He had long since gotten over the fact that Heero was the premier figure in Duo's eyes, but it didn't stop him from feeling rather rejected all the same. Once, he might have said he didn't care, but when faced with the fact, it was very clear that he did.

"Not that it matters," he grumbled, clenching the owl charm tightly in his fist. He opened his hand and stared at the silver trinket lying in his palm, which seemed so innocuous and yet so grounding at the same time. Even though it was probably silly to put so much stock in a person that he barely knew and would probably never meet face-to-face, it was only the remembrance that Quatre was a mere summoning spell away that kept him slightly comforted in such a dark hour.

He snapped his eyes away, resolutely glaring at a nearby wisp of shadow. "No chance," he grumbled. His lot in life seemed to be loneliness, and he wondered what would happen if he decided to remedy that with an unplanned trip to Theramore. It wasn't really a great plan, but as far as he was concerned, it was at least a good idea. After all, he was a lost prince without a kingdom or even a banner to unite his scattered people beneath, so what harm was there to just continue his wandering alone?

As if the very atmosphere around him seemed to sense his dark mood, a sudden darkness settled around him. The tiny flames dancing in the rusted lanterns that swung overhead seemed to cower in fear as the unsettling blackness filled the tunnel, squelching every patch of light in its way. Realizing he couldn't even see his feet beneath him anymore, Trowa lifted his head as the light waned, driven more by curiosity than and real concern as to what might be happening. He could feel a presence nearby that alerted him to the fact that he was no longer alone, though he couldn't see who had arrived in the foul shadows that had swallowed him whole. A whisper descended upon him, echoing more in his mind than his ears, grasping Trowa by the heart with icy talons: "What the hell is the difference? We're all going to die."

That certainly was true, Trowa thought. Even he, an elf that had lived for hundreds of years, was destined to the same fate as any other mortal. He wished he at least had something good to die for.

"If it's a purpose you're after, I could help you," murmured the chilling voice, which was somehow enticing in its bleakness.

Mystified by an offer that seemed to match his exact desires at the moment, Trowa peered into the shadows, trying hard to discern a shape in the blackness, though the effort was fruitless. He thought there was a patch of darkness that somehow seemed murkier than the rest of the gloom, but he figured that it was probably a trick the imagination. "Who – _what_ – are you?" Trowa demanded to know. He had always been hesitant to trust newcomers, and this was no exception, even if he liked what he was hearing.

The resounding laugh that ensued seemed to echo all around the blood elf prince, disorienting him as his eyes darted about in search of the speaker who seemed to be everywhere all at once. But when the voice spoke again, Trowa was slightly unnerved when he realized that it seemed to be right upon him once more: "I have seen you before," came the whispered answer; "Perhaps you have also seen me?"

Trowa frowned. Especially considering all the places they had visited on their recent adventure, there was any number of incidental acquaintances that might have somehow tracked them down to Stormwind. It wasn't uncommon for powerful creatures to conceal themselves as weaker ones, so for all he knew, even something as innocuous as a passing traveler or a bullfrog could have been a mask for the dark speaker.

"I can tell you have a taste for power," the voice continued, trying to tempt Trowa further. "I can help you have all that you ever desired."

The offer was like nails grating across slate, suddenly snapping Trowa out of the trancelike haze that had been clouding his eyes. His eyebrows knitting furiously over his royal nose, teeth clenched in distaste, he rebuffed the voice stoutly. "What need does a prince of princes have for power or wealth?" he said. "I desire nothing for myself, and only for my people!"

"But there has to be _something_ you want…." The voice's icy talons dug back into Trowa's heart, clenching it even tighter, almost as if it were excavating for his utmost secrets.

Trowa grimaced, a pulsation emanating from his fist, which still gripped the owl charm safely within. Had the demonic voice found that, or was it his own subconscious supplying such a reminder that he was indeed riddled with secrets of his own. Perhaps it was that he was so practiced at keeping them that he didn't know how to admit them to even himself, always willing to go to the greatest lengths to keep himself from saying anything incriminating out loud. Truly, he'd created a fine art out of stoicism, and he couldn't say that he was interested in any new tricks.

Unfortunately for Trowa, it no longer mattered how safely he'd guarded his illicit thoughts about Quatre, for the shadowy entity was now more than aware of them, almost as if it had managed to swell through his brain and soak up his every imagining of the priest from Theramore. "Ah, there it is," the bodiless voice murmured. "It is quite the torment that even a _prince_ would never be able to win the ally of his enemies…."

Furiously, Trowa growled, "I do not require any help in that area, thank you!"

"Oh ho, and if that were so, then why do you grudge your friend the companionship of an Ally so heatedly?" the voice taunted with the slightest edge of disdain. Trowa could feel it wrapping around his body, tightening its hold on him as it filled his head with visions of Heero and Duo, which filled Trowa with an anger that only served to betray the truth of his feelings to the grim voice. "You hate that a scruffy nobody can have that which you cannot!" the shadow proclaimed. "Is that not so?"

"I don't care enough to hate it!" Trowa protested, though his voice was weak and somewhat halfhearted. "How would you even know a thing about it, anyway?" Try as he would, he couldn't get the suggestion out of his head, where it was rooted and feeding on the discord that had riddled him since the beginning of their convoluted quest.

"Because I have been watching you. A prince should be able to take what he wants when he wants it," the voice continued hypnotically. "And I can grant you that luxury, and more…."

Trowa said nothing as the voice trailed off, staring with blank resolution into the darkness. His eyes had glassed over a bit, but he felt oddly placid about everything. He probably would have continued to deny wanting Quatre any more if the voice kept pressing it, but he couldn't say that didn't want him any less either.

Had Trowa been able to see the way the darkness had begun to wind itself around his person, he might not have slipped so willingly into the voice's dark trap. It blackened his mind and cinched around his throat, stifling his breath. "Yes, if only you will lend me your body," the shadow rasped, "you can have all you ever desired, and the power to achieve even the most impossible wish."

"Anything I wish?" Trowa echoed, his voice suddenly just as disembodied as that of the darkness around him. "Even a cure for my people?"

A dark cackle echoed around him as the voice answered, "You are free to manipulate my power to any end you see fit in exchange for your corpse, for the vessel I once resided in is one that had to be thrown away." The void held Trowa fast as it began to seep into the very pores of his skin, regardless of whether or not Trowa truly desired the proffered contract. "But your soul is fresh – a much finer feast to be sure!"

Even as the blackness forced itself into Trowa's body, the light seemed afraid to return to the darkened tunnel. Rather, Trowa's eyes glowed demonic red in the banished illumination's stead.

* * *

TBC


	27. Half A Person

**Title: **_**The Forsaken**_

__**Author: **Link Worshiper

**Pairings:** 1=2, maybe some others if I feel like it

**Rating: **PG-13

**Stuff:** Fantasy AU, fluff, sap, language, adventure, WoW nerdiness

**Disclaimer:** I own Gundam Wing action figures? Warcraft and its lore belongs to Blizzard Entertainment. Both things are being played with out of fangirl love.

Thanks to Black Fairy and Natea for the once over. Despite the fact this is part of Natea's birthday present, I still needed her to fill me in on the Alliance history they don't teach us on Horde, so thanks for that also =P

* * *

_Part 27_

_Half A Person_

* * *

A deep bell tolled across Stormwind in the early hours of morning, just as the first pink and orange tips of sunlight were grazing the edges of the trees and high mountaintops. The city had slept somewhat restlessly the night prior, still unsure what had transpired since the chaos of the last twenty-four hours. The orc that had charged so unexpectedly through the streets had been apprehended, but even after his arrest, there remained a certain air of unease still lingered. It was as if the people of Stormwind could tell that there was something changed in their kingdom, as if they could actually feel the winds of change blowing through the streets.

For some, that was particularly true. There were a few select individuals in the employ of the royal household, whose very job entailed the upkeep and looking after of the crown through divination and other such magical practices. And though even they couldn't exactly be sure what had happened to jar their acute senses, it was unsurprising that something had befallen their temperamental monarch during the Horde infiltration. There were even one or two of this magistrate who insisted that Milliardo's end had been foreseen long before the incident had even occurred: they knew his reign was ending, though it had perhaps been a mystery up until that point just why that was so.

So when a bedraggled-looking rogue and a mysterious, hooded stranger appeared before the castle, Milliardo's lifeless body strung out limply between them, it was hardly unexpected, even for those without the ability to predict it. The moon and the sun were still trading places when they laid the former king's body down upon a spare bed in one of the guest suites, respectfully covering him with a banner emblazoned with the mark of Stormwind. Then the two unheeded visitors were shown to another guest chamber, where a pair beds more comfortable than any either had ever known awaited them. It was the least that could be done for the ones who had rescued the Milliardo's dead body from its unknown resting place, even if their arrival was followed by whispers that they had somehow been a part of the king's undoing.

Later, after the sun had climbed to its zenith, and all of Stormwind had learned what had transpired the night before – or rather, at least as much as the castle's official herald had been permitted to say – the nameless pair was brought for an audience with the royal seers, who sought to find out the truth of matter. Whether their story was true or false, the seers would know, a fact which would determine whether or not they be made scapegoat for the crimes against the throne.

"My name is Heero Yuy," the rogue said when asked. "This is Duo," he went on abruptly, referring to his companion, whose face was still obscured by the hood he kept tightly pulled over his head.

"I am of weak constitution," Duo piped up, answering the unspoken question with more vigour than was probably expected, despite the gnarled, raspy tones of his voice. "The sun burns my skin and obscures my eyes. It is a curse I have lived with since my younger days, and it has left me hideous." He raised a gloved hand to wave away any politeness that was sure to be offered about his so-called 'condition'. "Don't worry about my comfort; it is as much for my own sake as yours that I keep my face hidden."

Incidentally, there was no lie for the seers to pick up on, despite the very misleading presentation Duo had given them. The undeath that the Forsaken suffered was, in a sense, like a rotting disease that simply couldn't kill what was already dead. It was simply a matter of convenience that there were about a thousand other disparaging illnesses and hexes that could leave a man crippled and unfit to be seen in public.

"I see," said the chief seer, a middle-aged man by the name of Barton. "And how is it, exactly, that you came across the corpse of former king, Millardo Wrynn."

"He was washed up from the sewers," said Heero. "We saw his cloak caught up in the grate and went down into the canals to investigate."

"Really, now," said Barton skeptically.

Heero glanced in Duo's direction, his face still blunt and unchanged, despite the secret plea for help. If only their roles were reversed, and Heero could be the one hidden behind the dark cowl; surely Duo would make a far better spokesperson than he could ever hope to be.

The silence that ensued was hardly a few seconds, but it was perhaps just one moment too long as Barton was left waiting for a reply. Fortunately, Duo was quick to pick up the slack, bowing his head as if he were ashamed. "In truth, sir, we saw the skirmish that took the king's life," he rasped, his talent for showmanship radiating in full colour as he spoke. "We heard the clash of swords from the canals and went to see. We saw him fall, and since no one was left to carry his body, we thought we ought to."

Barton seemed to accept this answer and nodded his head, his skepticism wearing off at the telling of this true, but deceptive telling of Milliardo's death. "And the ones that killed him?" he pressed.

"Horde, sir," Duo replied as if the answer was obvious.

Barton hummed and leaned back in his Dantesca chair, fingers laced beneath his nose as if in thought. "Well," he said slowly, "I suppose, then, you two would be heroes for this act." He peered over his knuckles at the ragtag pair sitting opposite him, unsure why he continued to eye them with interest. His powers of foresight were nudging his mind, suggesting that there was still more to them than met the eye, though he couldn't quite discern what it was just yet. He had felt no indication that their story was concocted, but he was hesitant to just pat them on the back and send them away before he'd managed to figure out why they still intrigued him.

He noticed Duo delicately nudging Heero with the tip of one pointed shoe, though Heero didn't seem to even notice the gesture. Clearing his throat, Barton quickly added, "But it is not my place to reward you. If you can spare the time, would you be so good as to wait until we have at least found a reagent to warm the throne? I do not know when we will find an heir and I wish to make sure you are thanked properly for the service you have done Stormwind… and the ghost of Milliardo Wrynn."

Heero opened his mouth to respond, but Duo landed a firm kick to his shins before any words escaped his throat. "We would be honoured," Duo interjected, ignoring the frown Heero was shooting at the side of his head.

"Excellent," said Barton, rising to his feet to indicate that their session was to be adjourned. "You may reside in the castle until Lady Proudmoore arrives to take up that mantle. Then you shall be given your due reward."

Heero and Duo also rose to their feet and bowed low before quickly retreating from the room to their guest chambers. Neither had to verbalize how relieved they were that the interrogation had gone so well, though it was hard to say if that was only an immediate impression. Who knew what secret decisions the seers would come to afterwards.

"But why didn't you say anything?" Duo asked in a low voice as they meandered through the vast castle. "That was your chance to tell them of your blood. He would have known you spoke the truth! That's what seers do!"

"Are you mad, Duo?" Heero hissed back, his tone a bit more acidic than he intended it to be. "That would have been _disastrous_. How would it look to you if some nobody came to you with the dead body of your king and claimed to be his rightful heir? It would only incriminate us further."

"But we're not incriminated at all," Duo protested. Though his face was hidden, it was easy to imagine what sort of expression his features were contorted into. "He was practically ready to throw us a _festival_ for bringing Wrynn back here."

"Duo, we have to wait until Relena gets here before we breathe a word out of place," Heero said frankly. "She still knows me well and might be able to protect us when she is named reagent. But until then, we are _prisoners_ of this castle. For all we know, they plan to reward us with a hanging noose."

Duo's tone became somber as he said, "You better not be having second thoughts, Heero Yuy. You _promised_."

The corners of Heero's mouth drooped, his brows knitting in consternation over his nose. "I'm just being practical," he defended resolutely.

Duo said nothing, knowing that Heero was valid in everything he had pointed out. Regardless of Heero's will to see his rightful place as heir to the throne, there were too many other factors standing in the way. As it was, they were scattered from their traveling companions, and though Duo wasn't worried about them, it bothered him that both Trowa and Wufei had vanished like morning mist. Not to mention that Heero still hadn't quite come to terms with his destiny, even though Duo had sworn fealty to him ages ago. Duo couldn't pretend like he truly understood what mental duress Heero was going through at the moment, but he liked to think that his support was enough to keep him steady. Or, at least, so he hoped.

They returned to their chamber at length, neither saying much else for the remainder of their walk. Both were broody, though Heero's particular moroseness came off in a rather abrupt way as he yanked his cloak off and tossed it onto one of the beds with an attitude that clearly conveyed his state of mind. He sat long enough to pull off his boots and gloves, and then stood, heading directly for the small antechamber that housed a bathtub and a faucet with running water. Almost offhandedly, he commented without even a backward glance, "You should really think about drinking that potion soon. They'll start to notice how you reek of death sooner or later."

The words were almost cruel, but Duo hardly took offense, his soul finding other reasons to feel upset at the suggestion. He wanted to tell Heero about why he couldn't do that so easily, but found it harder to confess than it probably should have been. Instead, he remained where he was, silently watching Heero as he shrugged off his tunic and leggings, all the while wondering why it was so difficult.

Heero casually discarded both garments at his feet without a care as to whether Duo or anyone else was looking. Naked, he leaned over the claw-footed bathtub to run the water, a rare commodity he planned to take full advantage of during the length of their stay in Stormwind Keep. He actually wasn't sure when the last time he'd seen a working faucet was, but it certainly wasn't common, even when he had been living in Stormwind before all this adventurous nonsense had befallen him.

Unbeknownst to Heero, his actions were creating a moment so erotic that it didn't even matter that Duo's body was too dead to fully enjoy it: the mere artistry of the way the muscles in his legs tensed as he bent, and the curve of his back, the breadth of his shoulders, was more than enough to tease Duo's mind in ways that went far beyond the physical. The scar where Milliardo's sword had impaled Heero was in full view, the exit wound on his back now a white mass of flesh knit up over the cursed shard that still remained lodged inside his body. Duo wasn't sure if Heero was aware of this fact, or if he'd even noticed, but just as admitting the truth about the potion's fate had presented a challenge, so did trying to bring attention to the nature of Heero's newest feature.

"Duo."

Duo's silence seemed to have done the talking for him. The undead warlock startled at the unexpected repetition of his name, the poetry of the moment upset as Heero turned to stare at Duo over one shoulder. The sternness in his expression had nothing to do with the fact that Duo had very obviously been checking him out from behind, but rather because Duo had neither confirmed or denying anything regarding the life-giving potion.

Even the gash in Duo's cheek and the roughness of his lips couldn't mask how weak the smile he offered back at Heero was. "What?" he said with a hapless shrug. Feigning ignorance had always been one of his best fallback tactics, but he had a feeling that it would be nary more than a courtesy at this point, since Heero wasn't falling for it.

"The potion," Heero said, still glaring over his shoulder, one knee resting on the lip of the bathtub as he waited to hear Duo's response. "What did you do with it?"

"I can't quite imagine where it's gotten to, really," Duo answered slowly, followed by a plasticized laugh as he tried to avoid Heero's intense eyes. By the Light, it was hard to look away from them, though.

"You're a liar," said Heero bluntly.

"Make no mistake about that!" Duo scoffed, not even pretending like he wasn't deflecting the real subject at hand.

Heero only made soft, grunting noise in response and turned around again to climb into the bath. Duo watched as he sunk low into the water, only the tousled tips of his hair still visible over the tub's back lip. Duo lingered where he was as the sound of gently churning water splashed through the air. He knew Heero was annoyed with his handling of the potion, even if he had no idea what had happened, and Duo didn't blame him. That still didn't mean he enjoyed the feeling of Heero being annoyed with him, though.

Deciding that he should rectify the situation before it snowballed back into the tension they had when they'd first reunited, Duo carefully trod into the bath chamber. He let out a stifled gasp when he approached the tub, however, his vision emblazoned with the heady sight of Heero touching himself. Heero seemed ignorant of Duo's voyeurism and continued to masturbate as if he were still alone, mouth slightly ajar as he panted softly, his eyelids heavy over his darkened eyes. Every now and again, the vague resemblance of Duo's name would escape his lips.

"Heero," Duo breathed, his voice startling Heero from his private revelry.

Heero's arms and legs flailed in a most uncharacteristic way as he struggled to catch himself and regain composure without accidentally drowning in the process. Gripping the rim of the tub, his expression betraying nothing, Heero merely stared at Duo until the undead warlock spoke up for himself.

Sitting down on a nearby stool, Duo worried the fabric of his robes as Asahi, his pet roach, scuttled out from the rotted gash in his cheek and pattered around his neck to rest faithfully on his shoulder. Softly, he confessed, "It's not easy for you either, I know."

Heero glanced up, his focus on Duo. He wasn't sure what he was waiting for Duo to say, but it didn't matter. As with everything else regarding Duo, it would stand out to him when it happened.

"I guess I thought it would be far more simple once we got that elixir," Duo continued, oblivious to the attentiveness he commanded in Heero. "Even after I realized that you were _you_, I thought it would be as simple as restoring things to the way they once were and moving on." He let out a small chuckle, adding, "I guess not."

To the untrained eye, it might have seemed like Heero was staring at Duo in a way that dictated annoyance instead of the intensity with which Heero actually regarded the moment. "I don't know why you would have expected it to be," he commented, gripping the sides of the tub with slightly pruned hands.

"I know," Duo conceded with a sigh, leaning forward so that he might fold his arms atop the edge of the bath. He leaned his head against his bicep, his tangled, grimy hair might tumble over his cheekbone and skim the top of the water. "But I've told you a hundred times that I'd protect you," he went on with a lazy smile. "And I refused to let you take your leave of this world unless I was able to follow right behind you into the dark."

Heero's fingers tightened around the tub's beveled lip, an uneven breath filling his lungs as he realized what Duo was trying to say. He held his tongue, afraid to say anything. He had never been good with words to begin with, but he was sure that even the most eloquent of speakers would be at a loss to describe what Duo had done for him. All he could think of was, "Duo, we all die."

"And am I ever aware of it," Duo said, a touch of laughter there to dilute the gravity of such a notion. "But you…." He trailed off, turning his head slightly so that his eyes were reflected in the bathwater, warbling as the tail of his braid bobbed into the image. "You have a lot to live for, yet. Much more than me," he concluded firmly, nodding to himself.

Heero, too, stared down at Duo's face mirrored in the water, his face betraying nothing of his thoughts. Then, lips barely moving, he murmured, "Then when my soul is ready to embark, make sure I'm not alone."

Duo's immediate reply was merely, "To die by your side would be such a heavenly way to die."

Heero's eyes flicked up in time to catch Duo's as he did the same, their gazes locking for a moment that felt timeless. And even though the glowing soul-light in Duo's eyes sockets was just as riveting as it had been when it had danced in his blue irises so long ago, Heero knew it was hardly the same. The instance faded almost as briefly as it had been birthed, and Heero found himself staring up at the arched ceiling overhead, brutally aware that Duo had affixed his eyes on his soaking form. Unconsciously, Heero covered his stomach with his forearms, a shiver running down the length of his body as his fingers found the proof of everything Duo had said. Idly, he rubbed at the slash of healed flesh that had knit itself over the shard of forged metal that had claimed his life.

"When Relena comes, I'm sure Quatre will be with her," Heero spoke up, suddenly very aware of the way Duo's eyes had also affixed themselves to the entry wound on his torso. "Even with just the brief recipe on the bottle, if anyone could brew a replica of that potion, it's him."

"I'm sure he can," Duo said with an almost dreamy tone in his voice. Clearly worrying about finding a new batch of the elixir wasn't the foremost thought in his mind. "But for now, I like it here." He gave Heero a brief nod, making no implication that he was going to move whether Heero had anything to say about it or not. "As you were."

A flush graced Heero's cheeks as his body stirred at the suggestion. Heero had never been very body shy, and he didn't mind Duo looking at him the way he used to when they had been younger, but the frustration of not being able to share the same sort of intimacy made him feel a little discomfort at the situation. He had been fifteen, clumsy and shy back then, and it was almost embarrassing to realize that he seemed to be no different five years later.

"What's wrong?" Duo chided, noticing Heero's hesitance. "Performance anxiety?"

The redness of Heero's skin only intensified at Duo's suggestive banter. He hated feeling so helpless, even in the most base of ways, and this moment made that fact ever so glaring to him. Everything in his life always seemed to fall so short, no matter how much of himself he gave. Any stability he thought he might have grasped was always shaken with even the lightest of breaths. Dalaran, Stormwind: just what the hell was he doing?

What _could_ he do?

His stomach quaked as he tried to regain his usual calm, but he was finding it far more difficult than he was accustomed to. The leaky faucet dribbling into the bathwater sounded like a faraway echo, his exhalations a hitched, uneven ripple in the air. He could barely stand the sound of it, sinking lower and lower into the water until it had closed over the top of his head. Lying at the bottom of the tub, he peered up through the warbled lens of the water, where he could just make out Duo's uneven shape and the intense glow of his empty eyes. The warlock stood out against the white-walled chamber ever so starkly with his black robes and his mucky hair, just as he always had. Even in their youth, when Duo's hair and skin had been of a more coppery hue, he had. It was nothing particularly new to Heero that Duo was unlike anyone else he had ever known, but the notion had a fresh poignancy in this moment as Heero realized that the strange course of his life had been steered by Duo's haphazard existence.

The tail of Duo's braid bobbed in the water as he stirred above, causing a small current to wash over Heero. It seemed as though Duo's lips were moving, but anything he might have said was muffled by comfortable, submerged silence that filled Heero's ears. Closing his eyes, he tried not to think about what words had been lost between them, internalizing his focus on organizing his head. He knew Duo was probably getting a bit frustrated by his instinct to burrow when things got a bit overwhelming, but he also knew that Duo wasn't the sort to hold it against him. Another current swelled the water, and then a subtle splash that faded into the dreamlike haze that consumed him until his breath exhausted itself. Eyes snapping open, he rocketed back into an upright position, the water sloshing over the edge of the tub as he sucked in a mouthful of blessed air.

Then he realized that he was alone again, even with Asahi left to keep him company.

* * *

Relena couldn't say she had been particularly close to her cousin, Milliardo, but that didn't mean she wasn't emotionally affected when word came to her regarding his untimely death. Despite that, even as she sat garbed in black in front pew of the Stormwind Cathedral with Quatre on one side and Noin, her personal guard, on the other, it seemed as though she was having an out of body experience as she stared at the coffin that stood just in front of the altar. Milliardo's corpse was covered with a decorative shield that bore the city's coat of arms with a matching sword resting beneath it in his folded hands. Milliardo's corpse was covered with a decorative shield that bore the city's coat of arms with a matching sword resting beneath it in his folded hands. A frame of white roses surrounded his body, as pale as his alabaster skin and silvery-gold hair, dull though it had become in death.

Truthfully, Relena was worried about the circumstances of her cousin's passing, and it occupied her mind more than the actual proceedings of the memorial service. She had been told that Milliardo had died defending the city during an unexpected Horde assault, but the details beyond that were sketchy at best. With no hard facts, there was a lot of space for rumour and unsolicited propaganda within both the Alliance _and_ the Horde, a direct conflict with her hopes for peace between the two warring factions. Even when she was named reagent, it would be a delicate matter to address. No one wanted a ruler that imposed his or her beliefs upon the kingdom, especially if that ruler was only a temporary one. She hoped an investigation into what had happened would at least be a step in the right direction.

A nudge from Noin jarred her from thoughts towards the end of the service, surprised that the ornate affair seemed to have passed so quickly. She stood with the rest of the congregation as six men in black tunics and Stormwind tabards approached the funerary bed to lift Milliardo's coffin and bear him on the last parade of his monarchy. She watched the proceedings with listless eyes until she noticed something striking about one of the pallbearers as the procession marched by her pew. Though his eyes were downcast and his shaggy hair hung in his face, there was no mistaking the likeness of Heero Yuy, whose whereabouts had been more than a passing fancy since her days in Dalaran. There was a strange shadow that followed the procession closely – a hooded individual who almost seemed out of place save for the fact he was apparently part of the funerary train. As the pair passed with the coffin, Relena's chest constricted, a mouthful of air stuck in her throat despite the fact that she kept her eyes decidedly forward lest she awkwardly make eye contact with her childhood sweetheart. She knew it was impetuous and immature to still be affected in such a way by Heero's mere presence, but there it was. She wondered what this would mean if Heero was to stay in Stormwind as well.

With such a thought in mind, she tried hard to force herself into the moment at hand as the congregation began to file behind the main procession. The coffin would be borne through the streets so that the citizens of Stormwind might give a last farewell to their king before it was brought to the royal tomb for its final rest. Still, despite her best efforts, everything around her seemed to pass like a blur until pallbearers and Milliardo's closest relations were admitted into the mausoleum for the last rites and burial.

Sealed off inside the tomb, the group circled around the sarcophagus destined for Milliardo's coffin was much smaller than even that which had been admitted to the cathedral for the funeral. As the pallbearers lowered the coffin into the carved marble box, Relena recognized a few familiar faces and wondered at some others. There were some obscure family relatives on Milliardo's side of the family, which had been related to the wife of her and Milliardo's uncle, the former king. There was Tyrande, the high priestess of the night elves, King Bronzebeard of the dwarves and even the prophet, Velen, leader of the estranged draenei clans. The royal seers clustered with the disciplined pallbearers and the mysterious stranger in black, who still hovered at Heero's side with his face obscured by shadow. There was even a strangely familiar elf of Highbourne discent who stood near the back, a quiver of arrows at his hip and a sweep of red hair obscuring half his face. For some reason, he stood out to Relena as being more out of place than even Heero's hooded companion, and her attnetion kept flicking back to the greenish luminosity that tinged even the whites of his eyes. It was only when Highlord Tirion Fordring began the final discourse in Milliardo's honour that she was able to look away, and that was only because she was now distracted by the political benefits of keeping someone like Fordring nearby when she was reagent: she had heard a story that he had defended an orc once, and the prospect greatly intrigued her.

A low whisper from Quatre cut Relena's internal musings short. "Who is that?" he murmured, tilting his head in the direction of the elven archer in the corner. "He keeps casting glances in our direction."

Relena glanced at the elf once more. Aside from his burning eyes and handsome features, he didn't really stand out to her very much. She found the dark stranger next to Heero far more suspicious at any rate. She puffed one cheek and tossed her shoulders before indicating the object of her doubt to Quatre with a similar toss of her head. "That's the one find more unsettling," she answered. "You can't even see his face. He gives off the air of a dark wizard or the like."

"An odd gathering, this," Quatre assessed with a low hum. Such a conclusion was clinched for him as he took notice of Heero standing amongst the pallbearers. Though Heero had been a common sight in Stormwind and a frequent errand boy for Milliardo, this was certainly the last place he expected to see him. He had rather thought of Heero as the sort to keep to himself, not immerse himself in royal politics or public affairs such as this. Maybe Heero would explain himself, maybe not, but Quatre knew the heart of it would come out in time. There were strange workings in the air: he didn't have to be a seer to know it.

He glanced back at the elf, a jolt rushing down his spine when he realized he was staring right at him. At first, Quatre had been sure the elf had his eyes on Relena, since she was the most noteworthy of their party. But upon second look, there was no mistaking the unrelenting grip those eyes had on his soul and no other. There was something about that elf that was incredibly familiar to Quatre, and yet wholly alien. Quatre was sure he'd seen that elf before, but trying to pinpoint exactly where made his temples throb. And his colouring – an elf with such red hair and clothes seemed so out of place. "A Sin'dorei?" he mouthed under his breath. "Here?"

All at once, there was a great swell in his skull, and a sinister voice echoed in his head, like a needle stitching through a length of cloth. In and out, in and out. The clamour that rang in his ears was dull at first, uttering words that didn't even sound like human speech until it rose to a violent crescendo, a loud cry that bombarded his conscious and overpowered his very equilibrium. He didn't even have time to throw a defensive aura around himself before he crumpled to the floor, abruptly disrupting the whole ceremony.

Relena immediately dropped to her knees at his side, but Quatre was only vaguely aware of her presence as the receding hiss continued to reverberate in his brain.

_You shall belong to me._

_

* * *

_

_TBC!_


	28. Crying Lightning

Yessssssssss, I'm still writing this. Lol, it's like, suddenly I have a life though... not as much time for interbuttz D:

**Title: **_**The Forsaken**_

**Author: **Link Worshiper

**Pairings:** 1=2, maybe some others if I feel like it

**Rating: **PG-13

**Stuff:** Fantasy AU, fluff, sap, language, adventure, WoW nerdiness

**Disclaimer:** I own Gundam Wing action figures? Warcraft and its lore belongs to Blizzard Entertainment. Both things are being played with out of fangirl love.

* * *

_Part XXVIII_

_Crying Lightning _

* * *

Relena's regency was declared once Milliardo had finally been laid to rest in the tomb at long last, but the event was greatly subdued after Quatre's unexpected collapse. Even after the young priest had been ferried away for some bed rest and the rest of the party had retired for a celebratory banquet in Relena's honour there wasn't much gaiety to be found. Relena was made somber by the mere sight of Quatre's empty place at the table, and it was only worsened by the fact that she had been unable to approach Heero the entire time. He sat at the other end of the long table, halfheartedly picking at his food, while his mysterious friend simply slouched in his chair and stared at an empty plate. They seemed to only be present out of courtesy, for they soon excused themselves at the same time and hastily left the banquet hall. At least they had managed to last longer than the redhaired elf that had been staring at Quatre: _he_ had made his exit within mere minutes of the meal's commencement.

So, needless to say, it was with great surprise that Relena found herself confronted by Heero and his friend after she took her leave of the celebration. She had barely made it to the stairwell leading to her chambers when a hand had unexpectedly shot out of the darkness to grab her wrist and drag her to a more secluded corridor. She had very nearly screamed at the shock of being caught so off guard, quieted only by the quick realization that it was Heero who had snatched her away. A hot flush burned her cheeks as she allowed herself to be pulled along, chewing her lip as she stared at the back of Heero's head, all the while wondering what had befallen him since he had so strangely vanished from sight. She had to admit, everything about it was just so very like him, from his unexplained absence to his abrupt handling of this particular situation.

In the less-traversed hallway Heero led her to, Relena found herself face-to-face with the stranger who never seemed to be far from Heero's side. He was leaning against the wall, his hood still pulled over his eyes as he waited for them to arrive. The faintest glimmer of yellow burned from beneath his hood as he lifted his head to greet them. "About time," he said with a chuckle, his voice a lot more deep and raspy than Relena had expected it to be.

"Politicians need to master the fine art of when it is opportune to take leave of an event," Heero answered with unnecessary candidness. "Especially ones contrived in their honour."

"Touche," the darker one replied, tossing a gloved hand in defeat.

Heero didn't waste another second with banter. Before Relena had a chance to ask any questions of her own, she found Heero gripping her wrist tightly as he pulled her close and looker her straight in the eye, a non-nonsense tone in even the very air around him. Relena's heart started thumping out of time, reminding her of her awkward schooldays in Dalaran, when she had admired Heero from afar, especially when he grit his teeth and murmured, "Relena, I..."

She sucked in a deep breath, suddenly very hyper aware of what was happening around her – of the hooded stranger's intent stare and the feel of Heero's strong hand around hers. His breath was stirring her bangs against her forehead.

Hanging his head, he let out a long sigh and at last admitted the words he was trying so hard to say. "Relena, I need your help."

And that was it. He released her hand and pushed by her, moving to stand closer to his companion. Relena wasn't so easily let down from that moment, however, still jarred by the giddy things that had run through her head the entire time. She supposed she was flattered that the first thing Heero wanted to say to her after all this time was such a personal entreaty, but it didn't mean that she still wasn't disappointed. Though she had a feeling that, as usual, Heero didn't quite realize how he had come off.

Sighing, she turned towards the other two with the best face she could muster after such a crushing blow. "What is it?" she asked, still determined to assist Heero in any way she could, even if her reasons for doing so weren't the same as Heero's reasons for asking. She gave Heero's friend a cursory assessment, trying hard to stifle a tiny yelp when she caught sight of a cockroach rushing out from beneath his wizarding robes and across his curled shoe.

"I..." Heero started to speak but quickly decided that he would be no good at explaining the situation with words alone. Instead, he nodded to his companion and said softly, "Duo, show her."

"Are you sure this is really okay?" Duo asked, a trace of hesitance in his voice.

"Unless you have a better idea," Heero replied bluntly. He fumbled for Duo's hand, which was lost in the folds of his robes, and pinched his fingers between his.

"Alright," Duo said with a shrug as he reached to pull his hood back with his free hand.

Relena let out a stifled gasp of surprise and horror when she saw the light on Duo's face for the first time. She had never seen any of the undead in person before, and the shock of his rotten face and empty eye sockets was a lot to take in all at once. And to think that she would see one here of all places – it was certainly not what she had expected, and she could only look to Heero for an explanation.

"We... swore that we would help each other be whole again," Heero said, sounding a lot more vague than he usually was. His eyes kept flicking back towards Duo, almost as if there was more safety in Duo's face than Relena's uncertain one.

Relena was still a little shocked by the sudden reveal that Heero had been keeping one of the Forsaken at his side all this time. Struggling to find the right words, she finally asked, "Is... is this why you defected after your mission for Milliardo?"

"You could say that," Heero muttered. He didn't think Relena needed to know the details about the Epyon sigil and its demon, especially now that it seemed to have taken its leave of him.

"Heero, everyone was worried about what had become of you," Relena reprimanded, hands on her hips as she focused a stern glare on him. "Milliardo was just short of sending out a search party!"

"Not a whit," Heero snapped tersely. "He only wanted what he bade me to take. He could have cared less if I was alive or not." He took a moment to suck in a harsh breath before adding, "But Duo took it upon himself to protect me, and now it is my turn to return the favour."

"I... I see," said Relena, even though she was almost certain that there was a lot more to this tale than Heero would ever share with her. The disappointment of such a realization nearly encompassed the elation she might have regularly felt at the news of such an alliance between the two enemy factions. Instead, she had the urge to tell Heero that he was cruel for trying to break her this way, even though she logically knew that Heero didn't mean it that way at all.

Her thoughts were broken by the insertion of an unexpected word from Duo. "Please, Lady Proudmoore," he croaked, devoid of the easygoing aura he'd exuded before; "Even I have heard tell of your diplomatic relations between the Horde and the Alliance: if ever there was a time to put them to the test, this is it."

The small part of Relena that was hurt by Heero's methodical and inexplicable behaviour was also responsible for the seed of vanity that told her she was only being used for her reputation. She did well to crush that notion no sooner than it had spawned, but it did continue to nag at her even after she nodded in assent to Duo's entreaty. Even knowing that she had agreed to help them because it was the right thing to do, she couldn't deny that she wanted Heero to take notice of how valiant she was to champion such a cause for him.

"By the light of Elune, m'lady, you've saved me," Duo gasped, unaware of Relena's inner struggle as he bounded towards her to snatch up her hands and clasp them tight. Until this moment, he'd been so petrified of what would happen should his identity be found out by the wrong person. It was doubtful even Heero could have protected him should that have been the case, uncrowned king or otherwise. Truth be told, he had even been uncertain of Heero's insistence that they trust Relena with his secret, only able to see the negative outcome at the end of it. How happy he was to be proven wrong.

Despite Duo's excitement, Heero wasn't quite as ready to rejoice, despite the fact that he had orchestrated this alliance with Relena himself. Heero had only one end in mind, and as far as he was concerned, there was no room for celebration until it had been met. But he at least managed to give Relena a courteous nod of thanks, saying, "In all honesty, Relena, it is the greatest boon to know that you will help us go where we otherwise could not."

A somber smile graced Relena's lips as she sought to meet Heero's eyes. "I suppose it is just as much a blessing that you finally realize there is a use for those of us who remain at court."

Completely missing the implication in Relena's comment, Heero merely shrugged and said, "There are things that I can do well, and I know what they are: fighting and surviving. It is all I have done, and all I ever will do. I know when it is my place to ask for help in areas I cannot hope to excel."

"Hey, hey, none of that," Duo piped up, suddenly appearing at Heero's side once more, a gloved hand gripping his shoulder tightly. "You sell your abilities – and your_self_ – shorter than an amputee gnome at the bottom of Alterac Valley. Now chin up and smile before you depress yourself over nothing," he said with that cheer that seemed so unfit for a Forsaken. As if to emphasize his point, he put a curled finger under Heero's chin to help his suggestion along. Softly, he added almost too quietly for Relena to overhear, "The Heero I know is so much better than that."

Heero quivered slightly as he tried to bolster himself with Duo's optimism. He was still unused to displaying the more vulnerable aspects of himself, his instincts to appear strong and indifferent warring with his other needs. Perhaps it was Relena's proximity that was making him so anxious, for she was established in his mind as more of an icon than an equal – someone to admire, but to keep at arm's length. He held his breath and closed his eyes, trying hard to focus on Duo: Duo understood him, was the shadow that grounded him even in the darkest of places.

A few paces away, Relena watched the strange exchange between the two of them, suddenly struck by the familiarity of the scene. She remembered feeling similarly on a Winter Veil night so many years ago in Dalaran, trudging through the cold in search of Heero after he'd vanished amid the drifting snowflakes with an uncanny echo of the undead wizard who now stood before her.

Touching a subconscious chord with her, the analogy made her reexamine the situation at hand, almost afraid to believe that the stitches of fate could have been pulled so tightly. It left her wondering if Heero or Duo even realized that she was drawing such a connection out of their interactions – if such a connection was something that actually existed outside of her nostalgic memories. Surely Heero would have the sense to realize that she now held the fate of his Forsaken companion in the palm of her hand.

Surely she wouldn't let that cloud her judgment.

Though it seemed as though they had been suspended in that moment for the length of a bible, it was with great relief that it ended before Relena's disheartening thoughts took any toll. Duo gave Heero a series of reassuring pats on the cheek, his infectious grin finally spreading to the corners of Heero's mouth, and they broke their proximity to one another as if it hadn't meant a thing to anyone else in the world but them. Duo stood by with an increasing merriment that was both inexplicable and jarring to Relena, while Heero spoke once more. He was still as blunt as ever, but there was something in his tone that seemed less morose than before.

"I know Quatre seems to have been met with some strange condition," Heero said, addressing Relena again, "but it would be ideal if we could speak with him as soon as possible about restoring Duo's life."

The mention of Quatre was at least enough to keep Relena from circling around her speculations regarding Heero and Duo. Though she had not been able to check on him since he had been carried away from Milliardo's burial, she had a feeling not much would have changed since. Nevertheless, she was greatly worried about her dear friend, and thus, took the opportunity to invite Heero and Duo to accompany her on a visit to his bedside.

Duo gathered his hood over his face before they set out, following behind Relena as she led the way to the chamber where Quatre had been taken. There was a certain agitation in her step that might have been blamed on her concern for the priest, but was actually just residual of the strange scenario she had just been involved in. For the sake of keeping her focus in the right place, she babbled to fill the strange silence, expounding on what she knew of Quatre's current status.

"Noin, my paladin bodyguard, hasn't left his side since the incident," she told them as she brusquely lead them onwards. "From what I was told, he seems to have fallen into a feverish state somewhere between awake and dreaming, muttering a fool's words to himself, but without cognizance."

"Sounds like a curse to me," Duo commented, not afraid to admit that he was well-educated in such morbid topics. "Hopefully it's not got a terribly life-threatening damage over time effect or anything."

Relena shot Duo a sideways glance, but didn't make a comment. Despite the fact that she was a practitioner of formidable magic herself, and therefore, already quite familiar with the nature of spells and other such things, there were still certain breeds of sorcery she would never even dream of tarrying with. She'd somewhat assumed that Duo had some kind of base in dark magic just based on his appearance, but now there was no question that he was an expert in it. Normally she might have been a little put-off by such a discovery, but in this case, she was sort of relieved to think that maybe such knowledge would be Quatre's salvation.

"If it's a curse, then who cursed him?" Heero asked the obvious question, the frown on his face making his opinion on the matter very clear. Quatre was his good friend as well, and the fact that this was how he was to be reunited with him after such a long time was troubling to say the least.

"I have my thoughts," Relena answered, though she wasn't quite sure if she should go pointing fingers before she was certain herself. She decided that a more tactful approach was more suited to the moment, and said, "There was a certain guest at the burial who didn't seem as though he belonged. I think he noticed Quatre's scrutiny at the event, and... well..."

Heero turned sharply to her, his eyes blazing a little. "And you have no idea who he might be?"

Relena swallowed, taken aback by Heero's unexpected outburst. She noticed Duo making calming gestures in the Heero's direction, which seemed to settle the rogue's volatile temper, despite the pangs of jealousy that needled her as she espied their wordless exchanges. Quickly recovering, she averted her eyes and said with a shrug, "All I really know is that he's an elf. Highbourne."

"_Highbourne?_"

"...A Sin'dorei?"

It took her a few moments to realize that she was the only one still walking, her two companions frozen about twenty strides behind her as she slowly turned around, unsure why both of them were suddenly so concerned. "Do you... know who I'm talking about?" she wondered.

Heero and Duo exchanged a surreptitious glance before Duo cleared his throat and, pronounced, spoke up, "Maybe." It was pretty obvious there was no indistinction for him as to who he was talking about, but Relena figured there was probably a reason he was being vague, fairly certain he was trying to avoid incriminating someone he knew. Which only then led her to wonder just how many Horde allies were lurking in Stormwind without anyone being any wiser to it.

Pondering this notion, she continued leading the way in silence, her hands clasped thoughtfully behind her back as she strode onwards. It wasn't until they reached Quatre's room that the contemplative air evaporated, for there was something distinctly out of joint about the atmosphere even as they approached the door. It stood slightly ajar, which wasn't entirely strange in and of itself, but for the pale hand that stretched out into the hall between the oaken panel and the door post. Upon noticing it, Relena let out a gasp and rushed to the aid of the hand's owner, who she quickly discovered to be the attendant left to watch over Quatre's bedside.

Heero and Duo didn't waste another second. Hurriedly, they stepped over the unconscious nurse's body and into the room, which had been left in a terrible disarray. Most of the chamber's dressings had been knocked out of place, the furnishings slightly out of place and the unmade bed stripped of both its linens and the blond priest who was supposed to be lying there.

"Wh-what's all this?" Duo stammered, flabbergasted by the sight. There was no mistaking what had happened, but the reality of it was a little more difficult to accept. Especially considering the comment Relena had made a bit earlier about an elf being the one responsible for cursing Quatre in the first place: did it stand to reason that the same elf would have gone as far to do this as well? The suggestion didn't bode well to the undead warlock, especially the more he pondered it. Trowa definitely seemed to have fallen off the bandwagon some time ago, and it unnerved Duo to think what the Sin'dorei prince had gotten stuck in his head since. He had known Trowa a long time, and quiet though the elf was, he definitely marched to a beat of his own composition more often than not. The problem was just getting other people to even hear what that tune was at all...

But it was Heero who seemed to articulate the summation of Duo's thoughts best with a single comment: "You don't think that Trowa would have _really_ been capable of this, do you?" he asked no one in particular as his dark blue eyes cast themselves across the disjointed room.

From her spot near the door, Relena listened as she tended to the nurse on the floor. The name Trowa stood out to her immediately, more than aware of who bore just such a name. Aloud, she wondered, "But what would the prince of the blood elves want with my darling Quatre? There's no reason that he'd become some kind of... _hostage_ do you think?" She furrowed her brow as she thought further, tempted to demand more frank answers from the other two. If something they weren't saying was what ultimately led to Quatre's current predicament, she wasn't sure she'd be able to forgive even Heero so easily. It took a great ounce of effort to remind herself that the actions of one didn't reflect the entire will of the Horde.

"I can't think of a real reason _why_," Duo began slowly, unsure if there was a proper and discreet way to say exactly what he meant. He quickly decided not to worry about offending Relena's sensibilities and continued: "...Except for the part where Trowa has been flirting with Quatre since we left Arathi. 'Keeping an eye on the enemy'" – here, Duo used air quotes – "he called it. By Elune, for a regal prince, he sure is the most awkward son of a bitch I've ever known."

"Excuse me?" Heero deadpanned, his stern brow quirked, flummoxed. "That's absurd."

Duo snorted, lifting a hand as he spoke: "Trust me, Heero, I've known Trowa a long time. He likes that Quatre more than just a little bit."

Heero sharply turned away, his hands on his hips as he took another survey of the disheveled room. "Still," he murmured, "I don't know that he would do _this_..."

The severity of the comment was marked by Duo's silence. No one had a very good explanation as to what might have happened to Trowa that would drive him to do such a thing, should they truly prove him to be the one behind Quatre's kidnapping, so no further speculation was offered. In fact, it wasn't until Heero righted an overturned chair that he found anything worth mentioning, and even then, there weren't quite words to adequately fit what he had discovered.

Instead, he just turned to face Duo and Relena, the owl charm that Trowa had confiscated from Heero so long ago twirling with an uncanny whimsy from its chain, its forgotten presence a clear indicator of the fear none of them wanted to believe could possibly be true.

* * *

TBC!


End file.
